jC'S 

L 

if'fsl 

M4 

WS\ 

■  ■  ■  ..:.:.- 


:k 


'& 


m 


1 


HI      U    I 


T 


liii.ii  I 


■ 

hir,t 


1 


1111     ill 


I 


lib 


iu 


HMHfflm 


fflifflHWfl 


■ 


NH 


■ 


JMil 

ti 

1 

1 

1 

1 

ffl 

l 

1 

I 

1 

i 

I 

Hi 

"J 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


THE  COLLECTION  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINIANA 


C970.78 

B33f 

c.3 


00006775395 


This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped 
below  unless  recalled  sooner.    It  may  be 
renewed  only  once  and  must  be  brought  to 
the  North  Carolina  Collection  for  renewal. 


Form  No,  A-369 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/forgetmenotsofcibatt 


MRS.  JESSE  MERCER  BATTLE 
(Laura  Elizabeth  Lee) 


FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF 
THE  CIVIL  WAR 

A  ROMANCE, 

CONTAINING  REMINISCENCES  AND  ORIGINAL  LETTERS 

OF  TWO  CONFEDERATE  SOLDIERS. 


BY 

LAURA  ELIZABETH  LEE 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
BRYAN    BURNES 


A 11  rights  reserved 


ST.  LOUIS.  MO. 
PRESS  A.  R.  FLEMING  PRINTING  CO 


COPYRIGHT  1909 
By 

MRS.  JESSE  MERCER  BATTLE 


0 

no 


TO  JESSE,  THE  HUSBAND, 

WHO  IS  STILL  MY  BOY  LOVER, 

TO  HELEN,  THE  DUTIFUL  DAUGHTER, 

WHO  HAS  BEEN  THE  LINK  TO  WELD  MORE 

CLOSELY  OUR  LOVE, 

AND  WHOSE  LIVES  I  HAVE  WANTED 

TO  FILL  WITH  SUNSHINE, 

BUT  WHERE  THE  SHADOWS  HAVE  OFTEN  CREPT, 

THIS  VOLUME  IS  LOVINGLY  DEDICATED. 

MAY  ITS  PAGES  BE  ILLUMINATED  BY  THEIR 

LOVE  AND  INSPIRATION. 

LAURA  ELIZABETH  LEE. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     My  Arrival  at ''White  Oaks"     .     .  9 

II.     Some  of  the  Things  That  Happened  17 

III;     Our  Removal  to  Clayton  ....  23 

IV.     The  Attempt  to  '  'Tar  and  Feather' ' 

My  Father 29 

V.     The  Year  Eighteen  Sixty-one     .     .  33 

VI.     The  Gallant  Fourth  N.  C.  Regiment, 

State  Troops 37 

VII.     Letters  from  George  and  Walter      .  41 

VIII.     My  First  School  Days       ....  135 

IX.     My  Father's  Death  and  Burial    .     .  139 

X.     How     the    Sheriff    Swindled    My 

Mother 147 

XI.     The  Work  We  All  Did  During  the 

War 155 

XII.     Sherman's  March  to  Raleigh,  North 

Carolina 4     .  159 

XIII.  The  "Bummers' '  and '  'Red  Strings' '  165 

XIV.  The  "Ku  Klux  Klan"      ....  171 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XV.  How  I  First  Met  "Uncle  Ned"       .  177 

XVI.  The  Beautiful  Pink  Frock      ...  191 

XVII.  My  First  Great  Sacrifice   ....  199 

XVIII.  The  State  Tournament      ....  207 

XIX.     The  Great  Race 217 

XX.  The  Crowning  of  Nealie  For  Queen  229 

XXI.     The  Coronation  Ball 235 

XXII.  The  Marriage  of  Ashley  and  Nealie  241 

XXIII.  The  Conquering  Hero  Comes      .     .  247 

XXIV.  The  Baptizing  at  Stallings  Mill       .  255 
XXV.  The  Meeting  at  the  Well        ...  261 

XXVI.  Jesse  Falls  in  Love  at  First  Sight    .  265 

XXVII.  I  Am  Not  Far  Behind       ....  271 

XXVIII.  His  Departure  and  My  Grief       .     .  275 

XXIX.  Hear    Rumor    of    Engagement    to 

Another  Girl 281 

XXX.     I  Am  Very  Unhappy 285 

XXXI.     Our  Engagement 291 

XXXII.  One  Evening's  Entertainment    .     .  299 

XXXIII.  How  My  Mother  Disposed  of  Us     .  335 

XXXIV.  Jesse's  Enforced  Absence       ...  341 
XXXV.  My  Mother  Makes  Us  Happy  at  Last  351 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Mrs.  Jesse  Mercer  Battle  (Lama  Elizabeth  Lee)  Frontispiece 


FACING 
PAGE 


"Aunt  Pallas." 10 

George 42 

Walter 133 

"General  Sherman  halted  and  asked  in  a  kind- 
ly voice  whether  she  had  husband  or  sons 

in  the  war." 160 

"Uncle  Ned." 178 

Nealie  and  the  Pink  Frock 192 

"Uncle  Ned's"  Return 195 

"Dropped  the  wreath  at  my  sister's  feet."      .  236 

"Give  the  horses  the  reins,    Henderson,   and 

let  them   go  the  road  they  will."     .     .     .  248 

"Until  death  do  us  part." 352 


"The  dainty  architects  of  prose  and  rhyme 

Have  their  brief  niches  in  the  Hall  of  Time; 
But  he  is  master  of  the  deathless  pen, 
Whose  words  are  written  in  the  lives  of  men." 

— William  H.  Hatne. 


CHAPTER  I. 
My  Arrival  at  "White  Oaks/' 

On  the  twenty-sixth  day  of  January,  eighteen  fifty- 
five,  I  first  saw  the  light.  The  day  was  cold  and 
raw,  with  snow  flurries  now  and  then  filling  the  air. 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  my  arrival  was  not 
more  warmly  welcomed,  as  it  was  the  most  unusual 
thing  for  snow  to  fall  in  that  warm  southern  climate. 
Being  the  youngest  of  eleven  children,  also  made  the 
advent  of  another  girl  baby  a  source  of  indifference 
to  the  inmates  of  "White  Oaks,"  the  name  by  which 
our  place  was  known. 

The  children  were  assembled  for  their  noonday 
meal  on  this  eventful  day  in  the  dining  room  where 
they  were  discussing  the  new  baby  and  attempting  the 
difficult  task  of  finding  a  name,  one  that  was  not 
already  in  the  family  Bible  or  had  not  been  in  use  in 
the  family  generations  before.  After  many  names  had 
been  rejected  and  scorned  as  unfit,  Nealie  cried  out 
"Oh,  let's  name  the  baby  Bettie !"  The  boys  not  caring 
one  way  or  the  other  acquiesced  immediately,  but  Flora 
implored  them  "No,  no,  not  Bettie,  call  her  Laura." 
While  Rilia,  then  fourteen,  and  feeling  quite  motherly 
to  all,  declared  they  should  compromise  and  call  me 
"Laura  Bettie,"  which  suggestion  quite  satisfied  them 

9 


10  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OP  THE   CIVIE  WAR. 

all,  both  boys  and  girls.  Rilia  was  then  deputized 
to  visit  the  nurse,  Aunt  Pallas,  and  beg  that  this  name 
be  submitted  to  my  mother,  as  pleasing  all  the  child- 
ren. She  soon  returned  with  the  glad  tidings  that 
"Laura  Bettie"  would  be  enrolled  in  the  old  family 
Bible,  which  was  well  nigh  filled,  as  "Laura  Eliza- 
beth," that  being  more  suitable  for  me  in  later  years, 
but  she  said  "Lookee  heah,  chillun,  you  can  call  dat 
baby  poah  little  ugly  thing  'Bettie'  or  'Laura,'  but  I'll 
do  her  laik  I  did  'Pussie'  (her  pet  name  for  Cornelia), 
I'm  a'  gwine  to  call  her  Betsy."  So  it  was  settled  by 
them,  and  from  then  on  I  was  called  by  each  of  those 
names  as  each  member  of  the  family  or  friend  hap- 
pened to  think  of  first. 

Aunt  Pallas,  whom  you  will  meet  throughout  the 
pages  of  this  book,  was  a  typical  African  in  color, 
though  her  head  was  larger  than  the  average  negro, 
with  the  kinky  hair  growing  low  on  her  forehead,  her 
eyes  were  very  small,  but  lighted  up  by  intelli- 
gence. Her  nose  was  large  and  flat,  and  most  decidedly 
gave  the  appearance  of  a  full-blooded  native  of  Africa. 
Her  mouth  was  large,  with  full  lips  even  adding  to 
her  homeliness.  Her  shoulders  were  square,  the 
.  body  and  hips  with  straight  lines  like  a  man's.  Her 
limbs  were  muscular  and  her  stature,  though  short,  was 
as  erect  as  a  young  Indian's.  She  claimed  that  she 
made  herself  so  by  carrying  pails  of  water  on  her  head 
when  she  was  a  child. 

"I  declare  before  goodness,"  she  used  to  say,  "that 
Col.  Johnnie  Hinton  bought  my  mammy  from  some 
niggah  traders,  dat  told  him  mammy  was  a  guinea  nig- 


"Aunt  Pallas. 


MY  ARRIVAL  AT   "WHITE  OAKS."  11 

gah  and  b'longed  to  de  quality,  an  dats  why  she  called 
me  Pallas — dey  shore  did  get  my  name  out  of  the 
dicshummary."  Her  homeliness  was  so  marked  that 
it  really  helped  to  make  her  attractive.  Her  age,  like 
every  other  one  of  her  race,  was  a  problem  we  never 
could  guess,  except  from  bits  of  history  that  she  would 
tell  us.  She  remembered  when  George  Washington 
died,  and  many  incidents  of  the  Revolutionary  war. 

Our  large  family  lived  on  the  farm  called  "White 
Oaks,"  near  a  small  town  called  Clayton.  The  land 
my  father  planted  in  grain  at  that  time,  and  as  the 
soil  was  later  found  suitable  for  cotton  he  and  the 
boys  had  hard  times  "making  both  ends  meet."  Two 
of  the  older  boys  had  married,  leaving  the  burden  on 
him  and  the  younger  sons.  He  was  well  advanced 
in  years  at  this  time.  My  father  was  a  typical  South- 
ern gentleman,  with  a  courtly  dignified  bearing,  and 
was  well  educated  for  the  times.  He  was  a  descend- 
ant from  that  illustrious  Virginia  family  whose  lives 
have  been  recorded  on  the  pages  of  American  history 
since  the  Colony  of  Virginia  first  had  a  Secretary  of 
State,  and  before  his  marriage  had  taught  school  in 
the  town  near  his  present  home.  It  was  there  that  he 
met  and  married  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  planter 
and  a  large  slave  owner.  Being  an  ardent  abolitionist 
he  refused  the  gift  of  a  young  negro  man  and  his 
wife  on  his  marriage  to  Candace  Hinton.  This  re- 
fusal, coupled  with  his  outspoken  convictions  never  to 
own  slaves,  made  him  a  target  for  the  slave  owners 
in  that  section.  It  is  true  that  "Aunt  Pallas"  was 
a  maid  for  his  first  wife,  and  was  so  devoted  to  her 


12  FORGET-MS-NOTS  OF  TH£  CIVII,  WAR. 

that  she  was  no  more  a  slave  than  the  wife,  and  was 
permitted  to  do  exactly  as  she  pleased.  When  the 
rumor  spread  abroad  that  Charles  Lee  was  a  rank 
abolitionist  there  were  already  war  clouds  that  bid 
fair  to  darken  the  whole  fair  South-land ;  his  father-in- 
law,  Col.  John  Hinton,  forbade  him  ever  "darkening 
his  doors."  Whether  the  estrangement  had  anything 
to  do  with  a  decline  in  her  health,  the  wife  soon  sick- 
ened and  died,  leaving  behind  her  seven  children,  all 
except  two  greatly  in  need  of  a  mother's  love  and 
tender  care. 

My  father  soon  began  casting  about  to  find  some  one 
who  would  be  a  mother  to  his  babies.  He  had  known 
my  mother  as  an  acquaintance  a  few  years,  and  his 
wife  always  spoke  so  kindly  of  her  and  her  great 
beauty — that  may  have  helped  him  to  turn  his  foot- 
steps toward  her  home.  My  mother,  also  named  Can- 
dace  Hawkins  Turley,  was  a  woman  remarkably  beau- 
tiful, but  whose  family  was  obscure,  excepting  her 
grandfather,  Thomas  Turley,  who  was  a  Revolution- 
ary soldier  when  the  war  for  American  Independence 
began;  he  enlisted  on  the  patriot  side,  and  served 
from  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution  to  the  siege  of 
Yorktown,  at  which  place  he  was  made  an  invalid  for 
life  by  the  bursting  of  a  British  bomb  shell  near  his 
head.  The  story  of  his  abduction  when  a  baby,  as 
handed  down,  made  interesting  family  history;  he 
was  born  in  Ireland,  and  belonged  to  the  Irish  nobility. 
As  was  the  custom  in  such  families,  the  children  were 
entrusted  to  white  nurses,  who  became  strongly  at- 
tached to  their  charges.    Thomas  Turley's  nurse  hav- 


MY   ARRIVAL   AT    "WHITE   OAKS."  13 

ing  decided  to  emigrate  to  America,  could  not  endure 
the  separation,  and  he  was  stolen  by  this  woman  and 
reared  by  her  in  America. 

This  child  never  knew  the  secret  of  his  life  until 
divulged  by  his  old  nurse  on  her  deathbed.  It  was 
said  that  he  did  not  know  his  own  name,  as  this  woman 
so  much  feared  that  her  guilt  might  be  known  and 
the  child  restored  to  his  seeking  parents. 

It  is  not  strange  that  my  mother's  family  was  ob- 
scure with  such  a  bit  of  family  history.  My  father 
must  have  had  in  mind,  to  avoid  another  estrangement 
if  he  should  attempt  to  marry  again,  another  slave 
owner's  daughter.  That  my  mother  married  him  for 
love  goes  without  saying.  My  father  then  being  over 
sixty  years  old,  had  that  to  his  disadvantage,  though 
his  genial,  kind  nature,  together  with  his  scholarly 
attainments  and  his  descent  from  an  old  Virginia  fam- 
ily, no  doubt  added  to  his  other  attractions,  and  caused 
my  mother  to  hasten  to  be  the  wife  of  a  widower, 
now  "growing  old,  whose  sole  wealth  was  a  ready- 
made  family,  excepting,  of  course,  the  farm  of  "White 
Oaks."  It  was  even  whispered  then  that  he  had  con- 
sumption and  would  not  live  five  years  longer. 

My  mother  was  a  woman  so  strikingly  handsome 
that  I  shall  not  attempt  more  than  a  few  words  of 
description.  She  was  an  Irish  type  of  beauty,  above 
the  medium  height,  with  beautiful  wavy  brown  hair, 
a  broad  low  brow,  a  classical  Grecian  nose;  her  eyes 
of  grey,  were  large  and  seemed  unfathomable;  her 
mouth  a  perfect  cupid  bow,  and  ruby  lips  through 
which  shone  pearl-like  teeth,  an  oval  face,  with  perfect 


14  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OE  THE   CIVIL  WAR. 

chin  and  ears,  moulded  on  a  neck  of  alabaster  white- 
ness; her  pink  cheeks  glowed  with  health,  her  com- 
plexion was  marvellously  fair,  and  the  blue  veins 
showed  their  delicate  tracery  beneath  a  skin  of  pol- 
ished smoothness.  A  Madonna  like  face  was  mv 
mother's.  There  was  nothing  insipid  in  my  mother's 
beauty;  it  was  a  beauty  of  strength  of  mind,  that 
shone  out  on  her  noble  mien,  whether  the  tradition 
in  regard  to  her  descent  from  the  Irish  nobility  were 
true  or  not,  hers  was  a  face  of  such  uncommon  beauty 
that  obscure  birth  could  not  hide  the  breeding  and 
noble  race  from  which  she  sprang.  Her  very  carriage 
bespoke  grace  and  dignity,  with  a  firmness  of  purpose 
that  once  she  had  taken  hold  of  the  plowshare,  it  would 
take  nothing  less  than  victory  to  cause  her  to  drop 
it.  Still  there  was  nothing  obstinate  in  her  appearance, 
only  a  resolute  face  and  figure  that  radiated  a  beau- 
tiful character  in  every  suggestion. 


For,  lo!  my  love  doth  in  herself  contain 

All  this  world's  riches  that  may  be  found; 
If  sapphires,  lo!  her  eyes  be  sapphires  plain; 

If  rubies,  lo!  her  lips  be  rubies  sound; 
If  pearls,  her  teeth  be  pearls,  both  pure  and  round; 

If  ivory,  her  forehead  ivory  ween; 
If  gold,  her  locks  are  finest  gold  on  ground; 

But  that  which  fairest  is,  but  few  behold, 
Her  mind,  adorned  with  virtues  manifold. 

— Edmund  Spenser. 


CHAPTER  II. 
Some  op  the  Things  That  Happened. 

Well,  somehow,  widowers  are  more  expeditious  in 
such  matters,  and  after  a  very  short  courtship  they 
were  married,  and  Candace  Hawkins  Turley  went  to 
be  mother  and  mistress  of  "White  Oaks." 

The  time  passed  rapidly,  filled  with  work  and  many 
cares,  and  in  five  years  she  was  the  mother  of  four 
children,  three  girls,  one  of  whom  died,  and  one  boy. 

They  continued  to  live  on  the  farm,  though  father 
had  no  turn  for  farming;  the  poor  land  and  the  large 
family  made  work  enough  for  all,  and  a  slave  of  my 
mother.  The  older  children  were  sometimes  required 
to  look  after  me  and  their  manner  of  amusing  me 
was  at  times  very  peculiar.  I  was  told  that  on  one 
occasion  when  I  was  about  ten  months  old  father 
took  mother  to  church,  at  "Old  Liberty,"  five  miles 
distant,  Rilia,  my  half  sister,  and  Nealie,  the  old- 
est of  my  mother's  children,  took  me  out  to  the  barn 
where  a  pile  of  raw  cotton  had  been  thrown,  reach- 
ing up  to  the  ceiling.  These  sisters  of  mine,  wishing 
to  stop  my  cries  for  my  mother,  began  to  toss  me  up 
on  the  pile  of  cotton  and  let  me  roll  down  to  the  floor 
where  they  were  carefully  stationed  to  catch  me.  It 
gave  me  great  delight,  and  I  set  up  such  crowing 

17 


18  FORGET-ME-NOTS  Of  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

and  laughing  that  it  gave  such  zest  to  the  pastime 
that  I  began  to  laugh  and  crow  louder.  I  suspect 
now  that  my  brains  were  being  well  addled,  but  any 
way  the  more  I  laughed,  the  more  I  was  kept  tobog- 
ganing until  in  a  careless  way  Rilia  threw  me  up  and 
I  went  clear  over  the  top  of  the  pile  of  cotton,  rolled 
down  and  struck  a  beam  on  the  other  side.  Immedi- 
ately I  set  up  such  a  scream  that  with  great  alarm  they 
carried  me  back  to  the  house  where  Aunt  Pallas  dis- 
covered a  sprained  wrist  and  a  dislocated  shoulder. 
It  took  hours  in  those  days  to  drive  five  miles  to  church 
and  return,  so  my  cries  well  night  drove  my  poor 
sisters  wild,  until  my  father  returned  and  set  the 
bones.  My  poor  mother  declared  it  happened  just 
because  she  left  me  at  home,  and  did  not  intend  to 
ever  do  so  again.  Still  she  and  father  were  good 
Baptists  and  could  not  resist  the  monthly  meetings, 
at  "Old  Liberty"  Church,  and  there  were  many  other 
times  when  I  was  left  behind. 

On  another  occasion  the  older  children  had  me 
in  charge  again,  and  decided  upon  another  novel 
way  of  amusing  me.  We  were  all  playing  in 
a  large  room  with  a  big  high  white  bed  in 
it,  Nealie,  after  while,  said :  "Suppose  we 
amuse  Bettie  by  making  pictures  for  her," 
then  turning  to  me,  she  asked :  "Wouldn't  you  like  for 
sisters  to  make  some  pretty  pictures  for  baby  to  look 
at?"  I  smiled  and  cried  "Yes,"  whereupon  the  two 
held  a  whispered  conversation  and  immediately  they 
made  a  dash  for  the  fire  place,  and  placing  their  little 
white  hands  on  the  back  of  the  fire  place  that  was  all 


SOME  OE  THE  THINGS  THAT  HAPPENED.  19 

covered  in  soot,  ran  fro  the  bed  and  began  laying  their 
hands  on  the  pretty  white  counterpane  trying  to 
draw  pictures  of  dogs  and  people.  I  was  the  audience 
and  had  a  seat  in  the  rear  of  the  room,  but  not  wish- 
ing to  sit  there,  while  such  works  of  art  were  being 
placed  before  me,  I  up  and  toddled  over  to  the  bed 
and  began  to  investigate.  Imagine  my  consternation 
on  seeing  my  sisters  begin  to  turn  black  before  my 
eyes,  so  I  thought  I'd  rub  the  black  off  them,  when 
lo,  I  began  to  turn  black  too.  Well,  in  a  short  time 
the  whole  bunch  of  us  were  black  and  weird-looking. 
I  was  so  frightened  I  could  hardly  speak  when  the 
door  opened  and  father  and  my  mother  came  in,  and 
I  think  the  rod  was  not  spared,  on  seeing  the  snow 
white  counterpane,  covered  in  grotesque  pictures  and 
little  finger  prints,  even  the  walls  were  decorated  to 
suit  the  taste  of  the  embryonic  artists. 

My  first  recollections  of  going  to  church  at  "Old 
Liberty"  were  of  being  dressed  up  and  riding  with 
father  and  mother  in  the  barouche  till  we  came  to  a 
deserted  looking  house,  standing  by  itself  in  a  big 
grove  of  trees.  Then  my  mother  led  me  around  to  the 
side  of  this  house  where  a  great  many  ladies  and 
children  were  sitting  down  on  a  bench.  After  a  while 
the  door  was  unlocked  and  we  all  went  inside.  The 
men  all  sat  to  themselves  on  one  side  and  the  women 
and  children  sat  on  the  other  side  of  the  room.  Then 
they  all  began  to  sing  such  a  sleepy  song,  1  dozed  off, 
but  dreamily  heard  a  man  talking,  and  once  in  a  while 
he  would  shout  so  loud  I'd  awaken  with  a  start,  to 
drop  off  to  sleep  again,  my  head  resting  on  my  mother's 


20  FORG£T-M£-NOTS   OF   THE   CIVIIv   WAR. 

lap.  I  awoke  after  a  long  time  and  saw  a  man  hand- 
ing a  plate  to  everybody,  to  take  something  to  eat, 
Oh !  how  glad  I  felt,  but  when  my  mother  broke  only 
one  tiny  bite  and  then  ate  that,  without  even  looking 
at  me,  I  was  getting  ready  to  weep,  but  when  another 
man  came  up  with  a  silver  goblet  and  she  took  a  drink 
and  didn't  look  at  me  again,  I  gave  one  loud  wail 
and  begged  for  a  drink  too;  not  only  denied  that, 
but  taken  in  her  arms  and  toted  out  of  the  church, 
before  everybody.  Then  the  cookies  were  found  and 
a  nice  gourd  of  cool  water  from  the  spring  was  given 
me,  and  we  went  back  home.  I  was  old  enough  to 
know  why  I  was  not  permitted  to  partake  of  the 
Lord's  Supper  the  next  time  I  went  to  "Old  Liberty." 


A  little  elbow  leans  upon  your  knee, 

Your  tired  knee  that  has  so  much  to  bear; 
A  child's  dear  eyes  are  looking  lovingly 

From  underneath  a  thatch  of  tangled  hair, 
Perhaps  you  do  not  heed  the  velvet  touch, 

Of  warm,  moist  fingers  folding  yours  so  tight, 
You  do  not  prize  this  blessing  over-much, 

You  almost  are  too  tired  to  pray  tonight. 

— Anonymous. 


CHAPTER  III. 
Our  Removal  to  Clayton. 

One  day  when  father  had  returned  from  the  corn 
field  my  mother  said  to  him,  "Mr.  Lee,  I  wish  you 
would  move  to  Clayton  where  we  will  be  near  enough 
to  a  school  for  the  little  children  to  go  by  themselves." 
"Why,  'old  woman'  (calling  her  by  his  pet  name  for 
my  mother),  "what  shall  I  do  with  the  farm?"  "Rent 
it,"  said  my  mother,  "start  up  the  old  saw  mill  in 
Clayton,  build  a  home  there  for  us  to  live  in;  I  hear 
that  a  great  many  people  are  anxious  to  move  there 
if  they  could  only  get  the  lumber  to  build  with.  We 
have  plenty  'of  seasoned  lumber,"  she  continued,  "to 
build  a  home  for  us.  Since  some  of  the  older  children 
are  married  it  makes  the  work  too  hard  on  you.  The 
small  children  ought  to  be  in  school  every  day,  and 
here  we  have  to  send  them  and  send  after  them  and 
many  times  the  weather  is  so  bad  they  don't  go  at  all. 
If  we  move  to  town  there  will  be  no  excuse  for  stay- 
ing at  home.  When  you  have  set  up  the  saw  mill 
and  supplied  everybody  with  lumber  for  building, 
you  can  take  your  money,  and  with  some  I  had  before 
we  were  married,  start  some  kind  of  a  mercantile 
business  in  this  thriving  little  town.  The  rent  from 
the  farm  will  put  us  in  easy  circumstances.  This 
money   I   have  had   for   so   long   I   intended   to  buy 

23 


24  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE  CIVIIv  WAR. 

with  it  a  couple  of  young  negroes  to  work  this  land 
and  increase  their  progeny.  Knowing  your  feelings 
I  have  nothing  else  to  do  but  submit  to  your  will, 
though  it  has  been  a  long  cherished  dream  of  mine 
to  use  my  money  to  buy  slaves." 

"Now  'old  woman,'  I  decline  to  discuss  this  slavery 
question  again.  I  will  never  own  another  slave  (if 
you  call  Pallas  such),  and  only  pray  that  this  talk 
among  the  Northern  statesmen  may  not  end  without 
good  results.  No  I  will  never  buy  a  human  soul  with 
money,"  emphatically  declared  my  father.  "So  talk 
no  more  about  that,  but  your  other  proposition  I  be- 
lieve is  a  good  one,  and  I  will  go  to  Clayton  tomorrow 
*and  see  what  I  can  do."  My  mother  who  had  lived 
in  town  before  her  marriage  and  was  never  pleased 
to  live  on  the  farm,  was  delighted  at  the  prospect  of 
a  change  to  town. 

Father  went  to  Clayton  the  next  day,  bought  a  .lot 
and  built  a  home  and  moved  his  family  there  within 
the  next  year. 

Clayton  was  beautifully  situated.  Nature  had  been 
most  lavish  in  her  gifts.  The  hills,  upon  which  the 
town  was  built,  gave  a  most  picturesque  look  to  the 
undulating  country  for  miles  around,  if  the  view  had 
not  been  obstructed  by  the  tall  pines  and  majestic  oaks 
that  stood  like  sentinels  to  guard  the  lovely  spot. 
Flowers  bloomed  perpetually  though  there  came  nip- 
ping frosts  now  and  then  which  made  malaria  and 
fever  give  it  a  "wide  berth."  The  atmosphere  was 
always  so  dry  that  it  gave  one  a  feeling  that  it  had 
just  come  from  the  hands  of  its  maker,  so  pure  and 
clean  it  appeared.     The  climate   reached   the  happy 


OUR  REMOVAL  TO  CLAYTON.  25 

medium  in  winter  and  summer  alike,  it  was  never 
enervating,  for  the  ozone  from  the  pine  forests  and 
the  oxygen  that  the  grand  old  oaks  set  free  gave  health 
and  rosy  cheeks  to  the  children  that  roamed  around 
the  little  town.  The  streets  were  not  paved,  but  like 
the  beach  drives  at  the  sea  shore,  were  hard  and 
white,  as  if  made  of  crystalline  powder — and  for  rac- 
ing purposes  gave  the  horses  a  firm  footing  though 
cushioned  and  yielding.  The  water  was  noted  for 
its  purity  and  health-giving  qualities.  Take  it  alto- 
gether Clayton  seemed  to  be  about  the  "garden  spot" 
of  the  "Old  North  States,"  so  far  as  what  nature  had 
done  for  it.  On  one  side  of  the  town  were  the 
"sunny  banks  of  the  rippling  Neuse,"  inviting  alike  to 
fisherman  and  picnicker.  The  other  side  was  bor- 
dered by  "Little  Creek,"  a  limped  stream  filled  with 
silver  perch.  Added  to  these  charms  was  the  old 
Academy  for  boys  and  girls,  with  its  two  large  play 
grounds  which  had  more  to  do  with  our  removal 
there  than  anything  that  nature  might  have  offered. 

When  father  moved  to  Clayton,  the  mill  did  such 
a  good  business  that  he  was  kept  busy  for  five  years. 
In  the  meantime  he  bought  pieces  of  land  here  and 
there  about  town  and  with  the  money  he  made  from 
milling  he  bought  a  stock  of  goods  and  groceries  and 
established  a  mercantile  business. 

The  war  clouds  were  growing  blacker  and  threat- 
ened to  end  in  something  more  than  "talk." 

He  continued  to  talk  against  slavery,  and  the  slave 
owners  began  to  fear  that  he  might  be  a  disturbing 
element  if  let  alone.  One  day  father  received  an 
anonymous  letter,  saying  if  he  did  not  stop  this  talk 


26  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

against  slavery,  that  he  would  be  "tarred  and  feath- 
ered and  ridden  out  of  town  on  a  fence  rail." 

He  was  then  in  very  delicate  health,  and  when  he 
came  home  and  told  my  mother  about  this  note  she 
was  greatly  agitated  and  said,  "Why,  Mr.  Lee,  what 
shall  we  do,  move  back  to  the  farm  or  what  in  the 
world  will  you  do?" 

"  'Old  woman'  I  shall  stay  right  here  and  do  my 
work  for  I  do  not  fear  these  men  who  are  too  cow- 
ardly to  sign  their  names  to  the  letter  of  threats." 

"Oh  suppose  they  should  try  to  carry  out  their  dia- 
bolical plot.  I  don't  think  we  ought  to  stay  here, 
really  'White  Oaks'  is  the  only  safe  place.  Come  let 
us  move  tomorrow." 

"Never,"  said  my  father,  very  calmly  but  very  firmly 
too.  "I  am  not  a  coward,  for  I  inherit  a  love  of  my 
country  from  my  ancestors  who  helped  to  establish 
independence  in  these  colonies,  but  slavery  and  its 
evils  I  forsee  will  precipitate  another  war  for  the  free- 
dom of  another  race.  I  do  not  fear  these  threats  for 
the  writers  of  this  anonymous  letter  dare  not  do  what 
they  no  doubt  would  like  to  do,  for  such  a  thing  would 
be  heralded  from  Maine  to  Texas,  and  my  life,  though 
a  forfeit,  would  help  to  free  the  slaves,  even  sooner 
than  I  now  think  will  be." 

"Well,  Mr.  Lee,  I  can't  help  but  fear  all  the  same 
such  underhand  work.  It  is  not  the  foe  we  meet  face 
to  face,  but  the  enemy  that  slips  upon  us  unawares," 
persisted  my  poor  mother.  "I  dare  not  permit  my- 
self to  think  of  this  horrible  deed  without  being 
alarmed  and  fearing  for  your  safety.     I  shall  keep  a 


OUR   REMOVAL   TO    CLAYTON.  27 

close  watch  over  you  and  not  let  you  get  far  from 
me,"  insisted  mother. 

"Well,  'old  woman,'  this  cough  means  that  my  days 
are  numbered.  I  want  to  make  my  will  and  arrange 
all  my  worldly  affairs,  so  as  to  give  you  as  little 
trouble  as  possible.  I  want  to  leave  you  with  the  busi- 
ness in  good  shape,  knowing  your  fine  executive  abil- 
ity, so  that  everything  will  continue  to  run  smoothly. 
I  am  resigned  to  God's  will,  but  hate  to  leave  you,  my 
faithful  wife,  with  the  five  small  children."  Here  my 
mother  began  to  cry,  "Oh  don't  speak  of  leaving  me 
and  the  children,  I  can't  bear  to  hear  you  say  it,"  and 
thereupon  she  broke  down  again. 

"Well,  'old  woman,'  this  is  a  matter  of  business ;  that 
you  should  know  we  are  doing  well  in  the  store  and 
the  farm  is  paying  better  than  I  ever  hoped  for.  Rais- 
ing cotton  has  been  more  profitable,  with  the  Jones 
tenants,  than  my  poor  efforts  at  raising  grain  ever 
were,  besides  bringing  much  higher  prices." 

However  the  days  and  nights  were  spent  in  horror 
to  my  mother,  though  she  tried  to  hide  it  from 
father;  the  fear  of  those  men  doing  that  dastardly 
deed,  and  the  knowledge  that  father  was  daily  grow- 
ing worse,  made  poor  mother  old  before  her  time.  I 
remember  going  day  after  day  with  her  to  the  store 
where  she  sat  and  sewed,  always  near  the  door,  and 
scanning  every  one  as  they  came  in,  her  face  wear- 
ing a  set  look  and  a  determined  one,  and  I  now  think 
after  more  than  forty  years  have  passed  that  it  was 
her  presence,  always  near  my  father,  that  helped  to 
hinder  those  fanatics  from  perpetrating  that  black 
crime. 


We  live  in  deed,  not  years;  in  thoughts,  not  breath; 

In  feelings,  not  in  figures  on  a  dial. 
"We  should  count  time  by  heart  throbs  where  they  beat 

For  God,  for  man,  for  duty;   He  most  lives 
Who  thinks  most,  feels  the  noblest,  acts  the  best; 

Life  is  but  a  means  unto  an  end,  that  end 
Beginning,  mean  and  end  to  all  things,  God. 

— P.  J.  Bailey. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
The;  Attempt  to  "Tar  and  Feather"  My  Father. 

My  two  half  brothers,  Walter  and  George,  were  as 
rank  secessionists  as  my  father  was  abolitionist. 
Though  only  fifteen  and  seventeen  years  of  age,  these 
boys  had  inherited  from  Col.  John  Hinton,  their  ma- 
ternal grandfather,  a  desire  to  own  slaves,  and  always 
declared  when  they  were  old  enough  that  they  would 
have  negroes  to  work  for  them.  Still  the  main  reason 
for  their  being  secessionists  was  that  all  their  com- 
panions were  drilling  and  talking  of  war  all  the  time. 
Aunt  Pallas  having  heard  my  mother  tell  of  the  note 
to  my  father,  in  which  he  was  to  be  "tarred  and  feath- 
ered and  ridden  on  a  rail  out  of  town,"  was  so  dis- 
tressed that  she  told  Walter  and  George  to  get  out  the 
old  guns  and  put  them  in  good  condition,  that  they 
didn't  need  to  go  off  to  shoot  Yankees  on  account  of 
the  trifling  niggers.  "I'll  tell  ye  what  we  will  do, 
when  anybody  comes  round  heah  looking  for  Marse 
Charles  we  will  take  our  guns  and  load  up  with  pow- 
der and  go  out  and  fire  'em  off,  he !  he !  I'll  be  seized 
by  cats,  but  dey  nevah  will  try  to  ride  any  other  gen- 
tleman on  a  rail." 

The  boys  were  so  angry  at  the  bare  mention  of 
such  treatment  for  their  good  father  that  it  was  all 

29 


30  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF   THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

Aunt  Pallas  could  do  to  keep  Walter  and  George  from 
putting  in  bullets  to  kill  somebody.  At  last  she  per- 
suaded them  not  to  do  it,  still  they  "kept  their  powder 
dry"  and  waited. 

One  beautiful  moonlight  night  some  one  came  to 
our  front  door  and  knocked.  One  of  the  boys  went  to 
open  it  and  found  waiting  outside  a  negro  boy,  owned 
by  one  of  our  near  neighbors,  who  said  "my  master 
sent  me  to  ax  your  daddy  to  come  out  to  de  store  and 
let  me  have  a  bottle  of  castor  ile,  for  brudder  Reuben, 
he  got  de  colok."  Aunt  Pallas  had  posted  Walter  and 
George  that  when  they  heard  her  singing,  "My  head 
got  wet  wid  de  midnight  dew,  honah  de  lam,  good 
Lawd  honah  de  lam,"  they  might  know  that  the  posse 
were  out  after  father.  Before  Walter  had  time  to  go 
to  father  with  the  message  Aunt  Pallas  began  to  sing 
"Honah  de  lam"  and  both  boys  darted  out  to  the  place 
where  the  guns  were  hidden,  and  with  Aunt  Pallas 
leading  the  little  army  they  made  a  rush  for  the  big 
oaks,  and  standing  back  of  them  they  began  to  dis- 
charge the  old  guns.  At  the  first  shot  such  consterna- 
tion seized  these  villains  that  the  whole  posse  stam- 
peded and  such  running  as  they  did  has  never  been 
seen  before  or  since  in  that  dignified  old  town  of 
Clayton.  Of  course  Aunt  Pallas  and  the  boys  ran  after 
them  and  continued  to  explode  their  powder,  but  so 
effectually  did  the  explosions  work  that  no  more  at- 
tempts were  ever  made  on  my  father's  life. 


In  war  not  crafty,  but  in  battle  bold, 

No  wealth  I  value,  and  I  shun  all  gold. 
Be  steel  the  only  metal  shall  decree 

The  fate  of  empire,  or  to  you  or  me. 
The  generous  conquest  be  by  courage  tried, 

And  all  the  captives  on  the  Roman  side, 
I  swear  by  all  the  gods  of  open  war, 

As  fate  their  lives,  their  freedom  I  will  spare. 

— Ptkrhus. 


CHAPTER  V. 
The  Year  Eighteen  Sixty-one. 

The  year  eighteen  sixty-one  was  ushered  in  with 
loud  mutterings  of  war,  and  among  my  earliest  recol- 
lections were  those  of  seeing  a  body  of  men  drilling 
in  front  of  our  home.  These  militia  companies  were 
being  formed  in  every  county,  and  the  women  and 
girls  were  meeting  in  halls  or  school  houses  for  the 
purpose  of  sewing  on  flags  and  uniforms  for  the  men 
and  boys,  that  later  became  soldiers.  Everywhere  was 
heard  the  talk  of  war,  even  the  small  boys  were  hoping 
for  the  time  to  come  when  they  might  be  allowed  to 
shoulder  a  gun  and  go  off  to  shoot  "Yankees."  One 
day  on  our  way  home  from  school,  some  one  told  us 
that  Fort  Sumter  had  been  fired  on,  that  was  even  unin- 
telligible to  me,  but  greatly  pleased  my  brother  George, 
for  he  threw  up  his  cap  and  howled,  "Hurrah  for 
South  Carolina,  I  am  going  to  be  a  soldier  now." 

My  father  was  so  feeble  that  when  Walter  and 
George  declared  their  intention  of  volunteering  he 
could  not  show  them  by  his  arguments  that  they  were 
wrong,  and  knowing,  too,  that  his  days  were  num- 
bered, felt  that  only  a  short  time  and  they  would 
be  at  liberty  to  go  to  the  war.  From  morning  till 
night  was  heard  fife  and  drum,  or  the  talk  of  the  citi- 

33 


34  tfORGET-ME-NOTS  0£  TH£   CIVIL,  WAR. 

zens  that  preparations  were  being  made  all  over  the 
South  for  a  contest  which  would  soon  end  in  favor 
of  States'  rights.  Shortly  trains  loaded  with  men  going 
to  enlist,  and  soldiers,  kept  the  young  people  running 
to  the  depot  to  see  the  different  regiments.  Every- 
one had  a  flag  which  was  waved  as  the  trains  passed 
our  town.  Sometimes  they  made  no  stop  at  the  sta- 
tion, but  the  girls  had  notes  of  encouragement  written 
and  placed  between  split  sticks,  and  as  the  cars  went  by 
the  girls  would  throw  their  missives  of  faith  and  hope 
to  these  strangers.  When  the  ladies  were  sewing  on 
the  uniforms  the  girls  would  write  notes  and  put  them 
in  the  pockets  of  the  soldiers'  jackets.  In  these  they 
would  write  and  beg  the  wearer  to  be  true  to  his  colors 
and  his  country,  and  never  despair  until  the  last  Yan- 
kee had  been  whipped.  Like  "bread  cast  upon  the 
waters"  the  soldier  boys  read  and  were  inspired  with 
courage  to  go  on,  and  very  many  correspondences  be- 
gun like  that,  ripened  in  later  years  into  love  and  mar- 
riage. 


And  far  from  over  the  distance 

The  faltering  echoes  come — 
Of  the  flying  blast  of  the  trumpet, 

And  the  rattling  roll  of  drum; 
Then  the  Grandsire  speaks  in  a  whisper, 

"The  end  no  man  can  see: 
But  we  give  him  to  his  country, 

And  we  give  our  prayers  to  Thee." 

William  Winter. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Gallant  Fourth  North  Carolina  Regiment 
State  Troops. 

The  day  that  the  gallant  "Fourth  North  Carolina 
Regiment"  passed  our  town  my  half  brothers,  Walter 
and  George,  bade  us  all  goodbye  amid  tears  and  hur- 
rahs, bands  playing  and  the  crowd  singing,  "Shout  the 
joyous  notes  of  freedom"  and  off  to  the  war  they  went. 
They  had  spent  some  little  time  at  Fort  Macon,  but 
now  they  were  on  their  way  to  Richmond  and  death. 
Some  of  their  letters  have  been  preserved  up  to  this 
time;  they  were  written  on  scraps  of  writing  pa- 
per and  sometimes  cheapest  wrapping  paper.  It 
may  be-  interesting  to  publish  them  for  fu- 
ture generations,  to  know  exactly  what  two  young 
Southern  boys  thought  of  war  in  the  beginning,  and 
how  one,  at  least,  throughout  those  terrible  battles  at 
Spottsylvania  Court  House,  etc.,  lasted  to  give  us  such 
a  vivid  description  of  them,  and  I  have  written  them 
verbatim  from  the  original  letters,  and  know  nothing 
was  exaggerated  from  their  view  point.  This  extract 
from  the  letter  of  a  friend  shows  how  fine  looking 
and  soldierly  in  bearing  these  brave  men  and  boys 
of  the  Fourth  North  Carolina  were  considered  by  a 

37 


38  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE  CIVIE  WAR. 

friend  who  saw  them  in  Richmond  soon  after  their 
arrival. 

"The  Fourth  North  Carolina  Regiment"  is  the  recip- 
ient of  unmeasured  praise  for  their  deportment  while 
on  leave  and  their  soldierly  bearing  in  the  ranks.  In 
fact  not  a  regiment  has  come  from  our  state  that  has 
not  elicited  unstinted  commendation  for  their  fine  ap- 
pearance. It  does  me  good  to  stand  in  a  crowd  as  I 
did  on  Sunday  when  the  "Fourth"  passed  through  the 
streets  and  hear  the  hearty  words  of  satisfaction  ex- 
pressed as  to  the  material,  the  "Old  North  State"  was 
sending  into  the  field.  Such  expressions  as  "Did  you 
ever  see  such  determined  looking  fellows,  steady,  cool 
and  resolute  looking?"  "What  should  we  fear  while 
such  as  these  are  between  Richmond  and  the  enemy?" 
I  assure  you  I  felt  like  giving  one  uproarious  shout 
for  the  "Old  North  State"  forever.  I  enclose  you  a 
rare  curiosity,  being  the  Federal  version  of  the  glorious 
battle  at  Manassas.  It  is  a  curiosity,  inasmuch  as  no 
instance  is  known  where  a  Lincolnite  has  put  so  many 
words  together  with  so  few  monstrous  discrepancies 
spicing  the  whole,  and  I  have  marked  them,  under  the 
influence  of  the  panic  which  such  news  created.  A 
greater  proportion  of  truth  bubbled  forth  than  usually 
characterizes  their  accounts  of  such  disasters  to  their 
arms." 

Richmond,  July  23,  1861. 

Robertson. 


"Be  of  good  cheer;  your  cause  belongs 
To  Him  who  can  avenge  your  wrongs; 
Leave  it  to  Him,  our  Lord. 
Though  hidden  from  our  longing  eyes, 
He  sees  the  Gideon  who  shall  rise 
To  save  us,  and  His  Word." 

— Michael  Altenburg. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Letters  From  George  and  Walter. 

Fort  Macon,  N.  C,  April  19,  1861. 
Dear  Mother: 

Our  company  arrived  here  this  morning  at  8  o'clock. 
We  had  to  stay  at  Beaufort  last  night,  the  water  being 
too  rough  to  carry  us  over  last  night.  I  intended  to 
have  written  last  night  while  at  Beaufort,  but  we  were 
so  completely  worn  out  with  hollowing,  etc.,  that  all 
of  us  got  to  bed  as  soon  as  possible,  which  was  about 
12  o'clock.  We  have  been  employed  a  little  while 
this  morning  carrying  barrels,  etc.  It  was  raining  the 
whole  time.  They  make  no  difference  here  for  rain 
or  anything  else. 

There  is  only  about  two  or  three  hundred  men  here 
as  yet.  There  are  more  men  expected  daily.  Our 
company  is  the  largest,  the  best  looking  (so  said  by 
the  men  here),  that  there  is  in  the  Fort. 

George  and  Tom  Stith  are  down  on  the  beach 
shooting  porpoises.  I  had  to  borrow  this  piece  of 
paper  to  write  to  you,  George  having  the  paper  in  his 
valise.  1    i  •'& 

The  company  has  this  evening  to  look  around.  To- 
morrow we  have  to  commence  drilling.  George  has 
just  come  in.     He  says  he  had  lots  of  fun,  and  told 

41 


42  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

me  to  tell  you  that  he  would  write  to  you  tomorrow. 
He  found  a  good  many  curious  looking  shells,  which 
he  has  put  in  his  valise,  to  carry  home.  Blake  asked 
me  to  say  to  Mr.  Rhodes  that  he  was  very  well  sat- 
isfied, indeed.  The  whole  company  is  enjoying  them- 
selves very  much.  I  will  write  to  you  again  as  soon 
as  I  hear  from  you.  Please  write  to  me  often.  Di- 
rect to  Fort  Macon,  care  of  Capt.  Jesse  Barnes.  Your 
affectionate  son,  till  death, 

Walter. 

Fort  Macon,  N.  C,  April  28,  '61. 
Dear  Mother: 

As  there  is  a  man  going  by  Clayton  tomorrow  I 
thought  I  would  write  you  a  few  lines,  to  let  you  know 
how  we  are  getting  along.  We  are  enjoying  ourselves 
as  well  as  can  be  expected.  We  had  prayers  and  sing- 
ing this  morning  by  Mr.  Cobb.  He  spoke  of  the  inju- 
ries of  the  South  in  an  eloquent  manner. 

For  the  last  day  or  two  we  have  been  living  on  the 
victuals  that  the  people  sent  down  here.  The  first  few 
days  we  had  bread,  butter,  etc.,  but  as  they  have  given 
out  we  live  on  bread,  fat  meat  and  coffee.  If  Blake 
does  not  tell  you,  I  wish  you  would  please  send  Walter 
and  me  a  cooked  ham  and  some  biscuits,  with  a  few 
of  those  small  round  cakes,  for  the  cakes  that  are  sent 
down  here  for  the  company  are  usually  taken  care 
of  by  the  officers  and  are  hardly  seen  by  the  privates. 
Walter  is  upon  his  bunk  enjoying  himself  finely  and 
sends  his  love  to  you.  I  am  going  to  try  to  get  a  fur- 
lough to  go  home  before  long,  for  I  long  to  be  home 


George. 


BETTERS   EROM    GEORGE  AND   WAITER.  43 

with  you  all.  *  *  *  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  we  did 
not  have  to  drill  or  work  either  this  Sunday  like  we 
did  the  last.  You  spoke  of  sending  a  mattress  down 
to  us,  but  you  need  not  for  we  are  getting  along 
very  well.  We  are  ordered  to  stay  down  here  three 
months  without  lief  to  go  home  in  the  meantime,  so 
Col.  Tew  says.     Believe  me  as  ever 

Your  loving  son, 

George.  ,  v 

Camp  Hill,  N.  C,  July  9,  1861. 
Dear  Mother: 

We  arrived  here  about  night,  the  day  we  left  Wil- 
son, and  having  raised  our  tents  prepared  to  get  sup- 
per, which  we  got  about  9  o'clock.  We  are  encamped 
in  an  old  pine  field,  which  is  very  hot,  but  the  other 
companies  that  were  here  before  have  a  very  pleas- 
ant oak  grove  on  a  hill.  The  Second  regiment,  under 
Col.  Tew,  are  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road.  Our 
Col.  Anderson  is  a  fine  looking  man,  about  six  feet 
high,  large  and  muscular,  but  not  corpulent;  a  high, 
broad  and  intellectual  forehead,  bold  face,  and  whis- 
kers (shaped  like  Walter's),  about  a  foot  long. 

It  is  different  with  us  here  to  what  it  was  in  Fort 
Macon  and  Newbern,  as  we  are  now  the  same  as  regu- 
lars. We  have  to  come  under  the  general  regulations 
of  war.  I  do  not  think  that  we  will  leave  here  for 
some  time  yet,  as  the  whole  regiment  has  to  be  uni- 
formed with  state  dress.  We  have  not  received  any- 
thing, and  have  only  drilled  this  morning.  Capt.  Hall, 
of  the  Irish  Company  of  Wilmington,  in  Tew's  regi- 


44  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

ment,  had  one  of  his  men  hung  over  a  pole  by  the 
thumbs,  but  Col.  Tew  had  him  taken  down.  In  Tew's 
regiment  there  are  200  men  sick,  and  a  great  many  have 
died  already,  but  in  ours  there  are  only  two  in  the  hos- 
pital. Walter  sends  his  love.  When  you  write,  direct 
Camp  Hill,  Company  F.,  Fourth  Regiment,  infantry. 
Goodbye. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

George. 

Richmond,  Va.,  July  22,  1861. 
Dear  Mother: 

We  arrived  here  yesterday,  and  had  to  walk  about 
four  miles  to  our  camps,  with  our  knapsacks  on  our 
backs,  and  everything  necessary  to  soldiers.  Before 
we  left  Camp  Hill,  we  got  our  state  uniform,  blankets 
and  all  the  accputerments.  We  were  nearly  worn  out 
after  having  walked  four  miles  to  our  encampment, 
the  knapsack  straps  hurt  our  shoulders,  besides  the 
weight.  We  expect  to  leave  here  for  Manassas  to-day, 
but  I  do  not  think  we  will,  as  it  is  raining. 

We  are  enjoying  ourselves  finely.  I  have  not  had 
anything  to  eat  since  yesterday  morning,  except  some 
cake  and  apples.  We  slept  on  the  ground  last  night, 
and  I  felt  sorter  chilly  this  morning,  but  we  will  soon 
get  used  to  that.  I  must  close  now.  Give  my  love 
to  all. 

Goodbye. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

George. 


LETTERS   EROM   GEORGE   AND  WALTER.  45 

Richmond,  Va.,  July  22,  1861. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

As  George  wrote  two  or  three  times  since  I  have,  I 
told  him  I  would  write  when  we  got  to  Richmond. 
The  first  thing  I  knew  this  morning  was  that  he  was 
writing  home,  so  I  told  him  to  leave  some  room  for 
me  and  I  would  write  some  in  his  letter. 

There  is  not  much  to  write,  as  we  are  about  four 
miles  from  the  center  of  the  city.  We  don't  hear 
any  news,  though  we  heard  yesterday  that  they  were 
fighting  at  Manassas  Gap  all  day.  We  heard  none 
of  the  particulars.  Captain  rather  expects  to  leave 
to-day,  but  I  do  not  think  we  will.  Col.  Anderson 
came  along  with  us.  We  left  half  of  the  regiment 
at  Camp  Hill  (five  companies).  My  opinion  is  that 
we  will  stay  here  until  the  other  five  companies  come, 
and  all  of  us  leave  together. 

David  Carter  and  little  lawyer  Marsh  are  both  Cap- 
tains in  our  regiment.  George  got  the  bundle  you 
sent  him  yesterday.  We  are.  en  joying  camp  life  now 
to  perfection.  Heretofore  we  have  had  a  plank  floor, 
but  now  we  pitch  our  tents,  spread  our  blankets  on 
the  ground  and  sleep  as  sound  as  you  please.  I  never 
slept  better  in  my  life  than  I  did  last  night.  If  it 
stops  raining  this  morning  I  expect  to  go  up  town 
shopping,  and  if  I  have  time  I  want  to  have  myself 
and  George's  likeness  taken  together  and  send  it 
home,  as  you  may  never  see  either  of  us  again. 

I  can't  tell  you  anything  about  Richmond  yet,  as 
we  have  not  seen  any  part  of  it  but  one  street,  that 
was  about  four  miles  long,  and  led  out  of  town  to 
our  camp.     We  are  much  obliged  for  the  bed  quilts. 


46  EORGET-ME-NOTS  0$  THE  CIVIL  WAR. 

They  do  us  a  great  deal  of  good.  We  do  not  trouble 
ourselves  to  carry  them,  but  roll  them  up  in  our  tents. 
We  got  blankets  before  we  left  our  camps.  Some  of 
them  were  the  finest  I  ever  saw.  I  was  detailed  to 
give  the  blankets  and  knapsacks  out,  so  I  kept  the  best 
out  for  all  the  boys  in  our  tent.  They  are  so  fine 
and  nice  I  hate  to  spread  them  on  the  ground. 

Fitzgerald,  Henry  Warren,  Billy  Barnes,  Tom  Stith, 
George  and  myself  compose  the  inhabitants  of  our 
tent.  We  have  a  very  respectable  crowd.  I  like  it 
much  better  than  being  in  a  room  with  the  whole 
company.  As  we  are  we  have  just  as  nice  and  quiet 
a  time  of  it  as  if  we  were  in  a  private  room. 

Give  my  love  to  sisters,  and  believe  me,  as  ever,  your 
sincere  and  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 

P.  S.  I  don't  know  where  to  tell  you  to  direct  your 
letters  in  future,  as  it  is  uncertain  how  long  we  stay 
here. 

Company  F.,  Fourth  Regiment,  N.  C.  State 
Troops. 
Near  Manassas  Junction,  Va.,  July  31,  1861. 
Dear  Mother: 

This  is  the  first  opportunity  I  have  had  of  writing 
to  you  since  I've  been  here.  We  do  not  live  as  well 
here  as  we  have,  but  we  make  out  very  well.  We  have 
to  walk  about  a  mile  for  our  water;  as  the  ground  is 
too  rocky  to  dig  a  well  we  get  it  out  of  a  spring.  You 
can't  imagine  how  much  I  wish  to  see  you  all,  I  long 
to  be  free  to  go  where  I  please.  But  alas,  there  is  no 
telling  where  I  may  be,  for  when  we  first  came  here 


inters  £rom  george  and  waiter.  47 

we  did  not  expect  to  stay  here  this  long  without  having 
a  fight.  I  went  over  to  the  battle  field  last  Sunday, 
and  there  met  a  most  horrible  sight,  for  it  had  been 
over  a  week  after  the  fight,  and  the  bodies  of  the  men 
had  been  blackened  by  the  burning  sun  and  the  horses 
had  a  most  disagreeable  smell. 

On  our  going  on  the  field  the  first  object  that  met 
our  gaze  was  a  grave  in  which  fifteen  North  Caro- 
linans  were  buried.  We  next  came  to  a  Yankee  who 
had  only  a  little  dust  thrown  over  him.  One  of  his 
hands  was  out,  which  looked  very  black,  the  skin 
peeling  off,  and  you  could  see  the  inscission  in  it.  The 
next  which  I  noticed  particularly  had  his  face  out  and 
his  white  teeth  looked  horrible.  The  worms  were  eat- 
ing the  skin  off  his  face.  It  made  me  shudder  to  think 
that  perhaps  I  may  be  buried  that  way. 

There  are  wounded  prisoners  all  through  the  coun- 
try in  every  house.  I  hope  that  peace  will  soon  be 
declared,  that  we  may  enjoy  the  happiness  with  which 
we  were  once  blest.  I  wish  you  all  would  write  to 
me  for  I  long  to  hear  from  you. 

I  suppose  you  heard  about  Frank  T.  running 
from  the  enemy;  it  is  true,  the  officers  told  it.  The 
General  gave  him  his  choice  to  have  a  Court  Martial 
or  be  discharged  through  cowardice,  and  he  took  the 
latter. 

We  have  our  little  bantams  with  us  yet,  and  we 
intend  that  they  shall  crow  in  Washington  City,  which 
is  only  thirty-three  miles  off,  if  we  live.    I  must  close. 

Goodbye, 

Your  affectionate  son, 

George. 


48  FORG£T-M£-NOTS   OF   THE   CIVII,   WAR. 

Manassas  Junction,  August  23,  1861. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

We  received  your  letter  this  morning  when  John 
Clark  came.  George  wrote  a  day  or  two  ago,  which 
you  had  hardly  received  when  you  last  wrote.  There 
is  no  news  of  any  kind  worth  writing.  George  and 
myself  are  both  well  at  present.  It  has  been  raining 
here  for  nearly  a  week,  and  it  is  tolerably  cool.  This 
morning  was  very  cool  and  chilly.  It  begins  to  feel 
like  winter  is  fast  approaching.  You  spoke  of 
sending  us  some  winter  clothing.  We  would  be  very 
glad  to  have  a  good  supply,  as  we  shall  suffer  if  not 
well  clothed  in  this  cold  country.  I  can  almost  imagine 
now  how  cold  it  will  be  on  top  of  these  high  hills  when 
the  winter  winds  come  whistling  around  them.  The 
following  list  of  clothes  will  be  as  many  as  we  shall 
need  and  can  take  care  of  conveniently.  Two  pairs 
of  thick  woolen  shirts  each,  such  as  can  be  worn  either 
next  to  the  skin  or  over  other  shirts ;  two  pairs  of  red 
flannel  drawers  each,  and  some  woolen  socks,  that  is 
everything  that  we  shall  need  for  the  present.  You 
can  send  them  by  express,  and  we  shall  get  them.  You 
need  not  attempt  to  come  to  see  us,  for  it  will  be  im- 
possible for  you  to  get  here.  Men  are  not  even  allowed 
to  come  after  their  sons  to  carry  them  home  when  they 
die  with  sickness  in  the  service.  I  tell  you  this  to  save 
you  the  trouble  and  expense  of  coming  so  far  and 
then  having  to  go  back  without  seeing  us.  It  is  a 
great  deal  harder  to  get  back  after  you  get  here  than 
it  is  to  come. 

Ed  Harris  is  now  here  with  us,  he  came  day  before 


-LETTERS   FROM    GEORGE  AND   WALTER.  49 

yesterday.  He  will  leave  in  the  morning,  and  I  shall 
send  this  letter  by  him.  He  got  here  through  the  in- 
fluence of  some-members  of  Congress  of  his  acquaint- 
ance in  Richmond. 

Give  my  love  to  all.  Tell  them  to  write  often  and 
let  us  hear  all  the  news. 

Good  bye. 

Your  devoted  son, 

Walter. 
P.  S.     Please  name  my  dog  Nero  and  try  to  make 
him  of  some  account.    What  is  sister's  address? 

Dear  Mother: 

As  Walter  has  told  you  everything,  I  shall  be  at  a 
loss  what  to  say,  but  I  cannot  help  writing  when  an 
opportunity  presents  itself.  Our  fare  is  bread  and  but- 
ter and  occasionally  a  little  honey.  The  two  latter 
articles  we  buy.  The  nights  have  been  rather  cool 
of  late,  but  we  have  not  suffered  any  yet. 

I  wish  some  of  you  would  write  every  day,  for  I 
do  love  to  hear  from  home  so  much.  I  do  not  know 
what  else  to  say,  I  only  thought  I  would  write  to  let 
you  know  that  I  was  still  in  the  land  of  the  living. 
Write  soon,  some  of  you.  Tell  Dr.  Harrell  that  I 
shall  endeavor  to  write  to  him  soon.  If  you  have  an 
opportunity,  I  wish  you  would  send  some  paper  and 
envelopes,  as  every  letter  we  send  costs  about  ten 
cents,  and  that  is  too  exorbitant  a  price.  Give  my  love 
to  all.     Goodbye. 

Your  loving  son, 

George. 


50  tfORG£T-M3-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

Manassas  Junction,  October  11,  1861. 
Dear  Mother: 

I  would  have  written  as  soon  as  I  received  your 
letter  if  the  box  had  come  with  it,  but  as  the  captain 
could  not  bring  them  with  him,  he  had  to  get  them 
transported  on  freight,  which  did  not  arrive  until  yes- 
terday. You  never  saw  such  a  mess  in  your  life,  cakes 
molded,  meat  spoiled,  etc.  Everything  was  safe  and 
sound  in  our  box,  which  we  rejoiced  at  very  much, 
for  we  have  not  been  faring  the  best  for  the  last 
week  or  two.  Tom  Stith  got  a  box  which  was  full 
of  cake  and  nearly  every  bit  of  it  was  spoiled. 

I  am  thankful  for  the  boots,  which  are  a  trifle  too 
large  but  I  reckon  by  the  time  that  I  put  on  two  or 
three  pairs  of  stockings,  they  will  nearly  fit  me.  We 
were  all  very  glad  to  see  the  captain  and  we  were 
also  pleased  to  see  the  things  he  brought  with  him, 
which  added  so  much  to  our  comfort.  Times  are  all 
very  quiet  about  here.  We  hear  firing  on  the  Poto- 
mac nearly  every  day,  though  I  heard  some  of  the 
boys  say  that  Mr.  Christman  was  collecting  goods  to 
bring  to  the  soldiers.  If  such  be  the  case  I  wish  you 
would  send  me  an  old  quilt  or  something  as  somebody 
has  stolen  my  shawl  and  I  think  I  shall  need  one  this 
winter,  but  you  need  not  send  anything  unless  some 
one  can  bring  it,  for  it  will  cost  too  much  to  get  any- 
thing here.  We  are  all  well  and  if  we  had  been  sick 
our  boxes  would  have  cured  us.  Concerning  what 
Jeff  Davis  says,  I  don't  think  I  shall  take  any  notice 
of  it  at  all,  for  there  are  already  too  many  healthy 
young  men  skulking  around  home  and  I  could  not  bear 


LETTERS   EROM   GEORGE  AND   WALTER.  51 

the  disgrace  of  leaving  the  army  because  I  was  not 
eighteen  years  old,  but  shall  stay  in  the  service  until 
the  war  is  over.     I  must  close  now,  give  my  love  to 
all  and  tell  them  to  write. 
Goodbye. 

Your  loving  son, 

George. 

Manassas  Junction,  Va.,  October  24,  1861. 
Dear  Mother: 

I  received  your  letter  this  morning  and  was  very 
glad  to  hear  from  you  all,  but  was  very  sorry  to  hear 
that  sister  was  sick.  There  were  544  prisoners  brought 
in  here  yesterday  morning  from  Leesburg,  an  account 
of  which  you  have  seen  in  the  paper  ere  now.  They 
were  sent  off  last  night  to  Richmond.  Blake  and  Jack 
Robinson  was  detailed  from  our  company  to  go  as 
guard.  Leesburg  has  since  been  taken  by  the  enemy. 
Our  forces  retreated  seven  miles.  The  enemy  are 
about  to  flank  us  and  I  think  that  we  shall  have  to 
fight  soon  for  I  guess  it  is  very  galling  to  them  to  have 
so  many  of  their  men  taken  prisoners.  We  have  had 
frost  for  several  nights  and  it  is  already  beginning  to 
turn  very  cold,  but  we  have  not  suffered  any  yet.  I 
wear  two  pair  of  socks  in  my  boots  and  they  do  very 
well,  for  it  keeps  the  cold  wind  off  my  legs. 

You  were  speaking  of  your  hogs  being  fat.  You 
ought  to  see  these  up  here,  they  are  so  fat  that  they 
can  hardly  get  along.  The  beeves  that  we  have  here 
are  the  fattest  and  prettiest  I  ever  saw.  They  are 
generally  large  young  cows,  nearly  twice  as  large  as 
ours  at  home.     I  have  often  wished  that  you  could 


52  ■       FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

have  such  at  home.  We  have  got  thick  overcoats  from 
the  government,  with  capes  reaching  below  our  el- 
bows. They  are  of  great  service  to  us  in  standing 
guard.  If  we  had  a  good  dog  and  was  allowed  to 
shoot,  we  could  live  on  rabbits,  for  I  never  saw  so 
many  in  my  life,  the  woods  are  full  of  them.  If  I 
only  had  Leo  here  now,  I  could  get  along  very  well.  I 
don't  want  him  to  be  an  unruly  dog,  for  he  comes  of 
such  good  breed  that  I  would  not  like  to  hear  of  his 
being  killed. 

I  should  like  to  be  at  home  in  hog  killing  time,  and 
wish  I  could  see  Tasso  now,  for  I  know  he  is  a  fine 
looking  dog.  I  hope  Walter's  puppy  will  not  turn  out 
I  should  like  to  be  at  home  with  you  on  Christmas, 
but  the  way  affairs  are  going  on  now  I  do  not  think 
there  is  any  likelihood  of  it,  as  for  winter  quarters, 
I  do  not  expect  that  we  will  go  into  any  at  all,  for  the 
enemy  pride  themselves  on  standing  the  cold  weather 
and  I  expect  they  will  attack  us  in  the  dead  of  winter. 
We  learned  from  the  prisoners  that  the  enemy  intended 
to  attack  us  in  two  or  three  days,  but  let  them  come 
when  they  will.  I  will  insure  them  a  very  warm  recep- 
tion. Before  this  reaches  you  will  have  heard  of  L. 
Barnes'  death  and  also  of  Bowden's  discharge  from 
the  army  on  account  of  being  a  minor,  etc.  Lafayette's 
death  has  cast  a  deep  gloom  over  the  company,  for 
he  was  a  very  much  beloved  member.  I  will  be  very 
glad  to  get  those  blankets  but  I  would  wait  and  send 
them  by  some  one,  as  they  might  get  lost  by  them- 
selves.    All  send  their  love  to  you. 

Give  my  love  to  all.     Goodbye. 

Your  loving  son, 

George. 


inters  erom  george  and  walter.  53 

Camp  Pickins,  Manassas,  Va.,  Nov.  2,  1861. 
Mr.  Chas.  W.  LEE. 
Dear  Sir: 

Yours  of  the  29th  ult.  was  received  to-day,  con- 
tents duly  noted,  and  I  hasten  to  reply.  I  must  confess 
to  a  feeling  of  surprise  that  you  desire  the  discharge 
of  your  son,  Mr.  G.  B.  Lee,  from  service,  as  I  was  of 
the  opinion  that  you  had  fully  and  determinedly  given 
your  consent  to  his  serving  in  the  army  of  the  C.  S. 
during  the  war.  Yet,  however  much  I  should  regret  to 
see  George  leave  us,  as  he  has  been  with  us  so  long  and 
has  been,  though  young,  a  strong,  athletic  and  good 
soldier,  you  have  my  free  consent  to  have  him  dis- 
charged. You  will  -be  the  proper  person  to  apply  to 
the  Government  through  the  War  Dept.,  for  the  same, 
where  I  doubt  .not,  should  you  still  desire  him  to  leave, 
you  can,  by  presenting  the  facts,  after  a  while  obtain 
his  discharge.  It  is  not  in  my  power  to  do  more  than 
give  my  consent,  which  you  now  have.  George  ex- 
pressed some  surprise  on  receiving  your  letter, 
and  says  he  don't  want  to  leave.  I,  of  course,  do  not 
deem  it  proper  to  give  him  any  advice,  but  simply  told 
him  to  write  you  whatever  he  might  think  proper,  as 
of  course  you  were  the  person  to  advise  him,  when 
you  could.  He  has  just  handed  me  a  letter  to  enclose 
to  you  with  this.  Whatever  course  you  may  pursue 
I  shall  willingly  acquiesce  in.  If  he  is  still  left  in  my 
charge,  I  shall,  as  heretofore,  advise  and  correct  him 
and  use  every  effort  in  my  power  to  secure  his  happi- 
ness and  welfare.  Hoping  to  hear  from  you  again 
and  that  my  answer  may  be  satisfactory,  I  remain, 
Yours  most  respectfully, 

J.  S.  Barnes.     • 


54  FORGET-MD-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVII,   WAR. 

Manassas  Junction,  Va.,  November  2,  1861. 
Dear  Father: 

I  received  your  letter  this  morning  through  Captain 
Barnes  and  I  never  was  more  surprised  in  my  life,  to 
hear  that  you  had  applied  for  my  dismissal  for, 
although  I  should  like  very  much  to  go  home,  I  do  not 
like  the  idea  of  being  discharged  from  the  army  on 
account  of  my  age,  for  in  size  and  strength  I  consider 
myself  able  to  stand  the  campaign,  and  should  I  go 
home,  I  do  not  think  that  it  would  be  entirely  right 
for  me  to  stay  there  when  our  coast  is  in  such  immi- 
nent peril.  I  compare  this  war  to  that  of  the  revolu- 
tionary, when  our  ancestors  fought  for  their  liberty, 
that  whoever  remained  neutral  were  considered  Tories, 
and  I  think  that  when  this  war  is  over  and  peace  is 
declared,  those  who  had  no  hand  in  it  will  be  consid- 
ered in  the  same  light  as  the  Tories  of  old,  and  I  have 
too  much  pride  in  me  to  allow  others  to  gain  the 
rights  which  I  will  possess,  besides  it  would  take  two 
or  three  months  before  a  discharge  could  be  obtained. 
It  took  Mr.  Bowden  that  long  to  get  his  son  dis- 
charged. Captain  Barnes  is  going  to  write  and  he 
will  tell  you  all  about  it. 

I  am  very  well  satisfied  here.  I  am  treated  well, 
and  am  permitted  every  indulgence  which  the  army 
regulations  will  permit.  All  the  boys  wish  me  to 
stay.  I  am  a  minor  in  age,  as  you  say,  but  I  am  a 
man  in  size  and  everything  else,  and  fully  able  to  be 
a  soldier.  Nothing  would  afford  me  greater 
pleasure  than  to  be  of  service  to  you,  but 
the  confederacy  also  needs  my  services.     But  if  you 


LETTERS   EROM   GEORGE  AND   WALTER-  55 

still  insist  upon  my  coming  home,  you  can  write  again. 
I  expect  Bowden  pictured  to  you  the  darkest  side  of 
a  soldier's  life,  but  there  is  enough  enjoyment  blended 
with  it  to  make  a  soldier's  life  very  pleasant. 
I  must  close  now,  so  goodbye, 

Your  loving  son, 
i  George. 

Manassas  Junction,  Va.,  December  9,  1861. 
Dear  Mother: 

I  received  your  letter  some  days  since  and  was  very 
glad  to  hear  from  you  and  would  have  answered  im- 
mediately but  Walter  has  gone  to  Richmond  and  I 
thought  I  would  wait  until  he  came  back.  He  went 
with  a  detail  of  men  to  carry  prisoners  who  were  taken 
by  the  N.  C.  Cavalry.  He  came  back  day  before  yes- 
terday and  brought  us  several  books  to  read.  Among 
the  prisoners  was  a  deserter  from  the  Federal  camp. 
He  was  a  Baron  in  Russia  and  being  of  an  adventurous 
disposition,  he  came  over  to  participate  in  a  battle  or 
two  and  accepted  a  Lieutenant's  commission  in  the 
Federal  army,  but  finding,  as  he  said,  that  there  was 
not  a  gentleman  in  the  whole  army,  he  deserted,  took 
a  horse  and  came  into  our  camp  and  has  been  sent  to 
Richmond  for  trial.  Formerly  he  had  a  commission 
in  the  Russian  army,  which  he  showed  to  the  people. 

We  are  expecting  a  battle  daily.  Yesterday  we  were 
presented  with  a  battle  flag  from  General  Beaure- 
gard, consisting  of  white  cloth  crossed  with  blue.  This 
is  for  us  to  fight  under  and  also  every  other  regiment 
has  one.    The  enemy  knows  our  national  flag  and  had 


56  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

already  tried  to  deceive  us  by  hoisting  it  at  their  head. 
Now  I  guess  we  will  deceive  them  next  time. 

Our  company  has  been  detached  from  the  regiment 
for  the  purpose  of  taking  charge  of  two  batteries  which 
another  company  has  left.  We  are  now  relieved  of  a 
great  deal  of  duty,  for  we  only  have  to  guard  the 
batteries  which  take  six  men  a  day  and  that  brings 
us  on  about  once  a  week,  and  we  drill  occasionally. 
With  that  exception  we  have  nothing  to  do,  but  if 
the  regiment  leaves  to  go  into  a  fight  our  company 
goes  also,  and  if  the  battle  rages  at  this  point  we  will 
give  them  a  few  grapes  to  eat  and  also  a  few  shells 
to  hide  themselves  in  and  then  we  will  play  ball  with 
them  for  a  while. 

Walter  is  still  at  his  old,  or  rather,  new  post,  and 
has  a  great  deal  to  do  as  the  chief  clerk  is  very  sick. 
I  hope  we  shall  get  a  chance  to  come  and  see  you 
before  the  winter  is  gone,  but  I  have  given  up  the 
idea  of  seeing  you  this  Christmas,  altogether,  but  after 
the  fight  I  reckon  we  can  get  a  chance  to  go  home. 
Give  my  love  to  all  and  tell  them  to  write  soon. 

Goodbye.     I  remain  as  ever, 

Your  loving  son, 

George. 

Manassas  Junction,  Va.,  January  16,  1862. 
Dear  Sister: 

I  received  your  letter  some  days  since  and  was  very 
much  rejoiced  to  hear  from  you,  but  I  thought  that 
you  were  a  very  long  time  in  answering  my  last.  It 
came  at  last  and  eagerly  did  I  devour  the  contents  and 


OTTERS   FROM   GEORGE  AND  WAI/TER.  57 

with  what  pleasure  I  lingered  on  every  sentence,  no 
tongue  can  tell.  The  description  you  gave  of  your 
tableaux  interested  me  very  much,  and  I  regret 
very  much,  not  being  able  to  have  been  there, 
as  all  such  scenes"  always  interest  me  so  much, 
besides  the  desire  of  seeing  you  act.  I  think, 
myself,  that  you  should  have  had  your  face  painted, 
and  that  would  have  set  off  the  piece  a  great  deal.  It 
is  a  pretty  hard  piece.  Didn't  you  feel  pretty  scared? 
What  does  Dick  act?  Who  was  that  sweetheart  of 
yours  that  has  been  home  four  times?  I  should  like 
to  know  him. 

We  have  a  hard  time  of  it  here  now.  The  ground 
is  covered  with  snow  and  then  a  sleet  over  that,  and 
it  is  nearly  as  cold  as  the  frozen  regions,  the  winds 
come  directly  from  mountains  and  blow  around  us 
like  a  regular  hurricane.  But  we  have  now  moved 
into  our  winter  quarters,  huge  log  hut,  and  we  keep 
very  comfortable,  but  it  is  nothing  like  home,  home 
with  its  sweet  recollections.  As  I  sit  and  write  I  can- 
not refrain  from  gliding  back  into  the  past  and  enjoy- 
ing the  blessed  memories  of  yore.  But  enough  of 
indulging  the  imagination,  for  this  is  a  sad  reality  and 
it  will  not  do  for  my  imagination  to  assume  too  large 
a  sway.  Tell  Miss  Myra  that  when  I  visit  Washing- 
ton I  will  call  on  her  parents.  I  expect  to  go  there 
soon,  either  as  a  visitor  or  captive,  but  I  hope  as  the 
former.  We  will  have  a  tableau  before  long,  I  expect, 
but  I  expect  the  scene  will  be  played  in  a  larger  place 
than  a  hall.  It  will  encompass  several  miles  and  will 
take  several  hours  to  perform  it,  but  when  it  does  come 


58  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

off  it  will  end  in  a  sad  havoc.  I  am  very  thankful  to 
you  for  those  socks  you  knit  for  me,  and  when  I  wear 
them  I  shall  think  of  you.  All  around  me  are  asleep 
and  the  huge  logs  have  sunk  into  large  livid  coals  ever 
and  anon  emitting  large  brilliant  sparks,  that  cast  a 
ghastly  hue  around  the  whole  room,  and  I  now  think 
it  time  to  close,  so  goodbye. 

Your  loving  brother, 

George. 

Manassas  Junction,  February  22,  1862. 
Dear  Mother: 

I  did  not  intend  to  write  before  the  Captain  came 
back,  but  as  one  of  our  men  is  going  home  on  a  sick 
furlough  I  though  I  would  write  a  few  lines  to  let 
you  know  how  we  are.  I  expect  the  Captain  is  at 
Richmond  at  the  Inauguration  of  the  President  (Jeff 
Davis),  if  so  he  will  be  here  by  tomorrow  night,  and 
we  are  all  anxiously  waiting  for  his  return,  each  one 
looking  for  a  letter  and  a  box  of  good  things. 

The  weather  is  still  very  bad  and  there  is  an  inces- 
sant rain  since  morning,  the  roads  are  so  sloppy  and 
rough  that  the  wagons  can  hardly  get  along  over  them 
and  very  frequently  we.  have  our  wood  to  carry  on 
our  shoulders  to  keep  our  fires  burning,  but  neverthe- 
less we  are  getting  along  nicely  and  not  much  incom- 
moded from  the  inclemency  of  the  weather. 

To-day  you  will  remember  is  my  birthday,  seven- 
teen years  old.  In  size  I  have  been  a  man  for  some- 
time, and  now  I  am  nearly  one  in  age.  I  do  not  feel 
as  boyish  as  I  did  when  I  left  home,  for  here  we  have 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE   AND   WAI/TER.  59 

to  act  the  man  whether  we  are  or  not,  and  it  has  been 
quite  natural  for  me  to  do  so.  In  the  service  is  a 
splendid  place  to  study  human  nature,  you  can  very 
early  find  out  what  a  man  is.  This  war  will  be  a  ben- 
efit to  me  and  an  injury  to  others.  Some  seem  to 
lose  all  pride  for  self,  and  like  a  brute  are  governed 
entirely  by  their  animal  passions.  Such  persons  may 
be  found  kneeling  at  the  shrine  of  Bacchus,  to  such 
persons  it  is  decidedly  injurious.  As  for  myself,  I 
think  it  will  be  very  beneficial,  for  I  learn  to  take  care 
of  myself,  think  and  act  for  myself.  I  now  see  how 
much  education  is  needed,  and  I  regret  exceedingly  not 
having  applied  myself  more  closely  when  I  had  the 
opportunity.  If  this  war  closes  within  the  next  year 
I  intend  to  go  to  school  again,  and  at  the  shrine  of 
Minerva  seek  that  which  I  have  never  obtained. 

One  Company  of  the  North  Carolina  Cavalry  were 
taken  prisoners  the  other  day.  I  do  not  know  which 
company.  Was  never  in  better  health.  Give  love  to 
all. 

Your  loving  son, 

George;. 
You  must  excuse  such  a  disconnected  letter  for  my 
mind  is  very  much  confused.    Love  to  all,  Miss  Mollie 
and  everybody. 

Manassas  Junction,  Vav  March  5,  1862. 
Dear  Mother: 

As  I  have  nothing  to  do  to-day,  I  thought  I  would 
let  you  all  know  how  we  are  getting  along.  The 
weather  is   still  very  bad,  ground  muddy  and  miry 


60  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF   THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

as  it  can  be.  We  all  have  had  orders  to  have  our 
heavy  baggage  ready  to  send  off  at  a  moment's  notice, 
and  also  to  be  ready  for  the  field.  The  enemy  is  con- 
tinually marching  upon  us,  and  I  expect  that  we  will 
be  in  a  fight  soon,  but  the  enemy  cannot  do  so  much 
damage  for  they  cannot  bring  their  artillery  along 
with  them.  I  was  vaccinated  last  week  and  my  arm 
is  now  very  sore.  I  am  excused  from  duty  on  account 
of  it.  I  wish  you  would  please  get  a  pair  of  bootlegs 
and  have  them  footed  for  me,  a  thick  double  soled 
pair,  that  will  stand  anything,  and  well  put  up  so  that 
there  will  be  no  ripping,  and  send  them  by  Pat  Simms. 
Ask  him  to  take  them  along  with  him  or  Virgil,  and 
also  send  what  they  cost,  for  I  don't  reckon  that  you 
have  the  ready  cash,  and  will  send  the  money.  Let 
the  boots  be  No.  8,  made  so  that  they  will  fit  him,  for 
I  guess  our  feet  are  pretty  near  the  same  size.  If  you 
cannot  get  a  pair  made,  get  a  pair  out  of  the  store, 
for  I  am  just  almost  out  and  there  is  none  about  here. 

Tell  my  sisters  I  think  they  could  answer  my  letters. 
I  must  close  now.     Give  my  love  to  all. 

Your  loving  son, 

George. 

Don't  get  the  boots  if  they  cost  exceeding  $10.00. 

March  14,  1862. 
Dear  Mother: 

We  are  all  well  as  can  be  expected  from  the  situa- 
tion that  we  are  now  in.  We  have  retreated  from  Ma- 
nassas on  account  of  not  being  able  to  hold  our  posi- 
tion.    We  are  now  25  miles  from  Manassas,  across 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE  AND   WALTER.  61 

the  Rappahannock,  and  camped  upon  a  high  hill  that 
commands  a  splendid  view  of  that  part  of  the  river, 
which  the  enemy  is  compelled  to  cross. 

We  left  Manassas  on  Sunday  night  and  traveled 
until  about  1  o'clock.  When  we  camped  for  the  night, 
everything  that  we  could  not  carry  on  our  backs  was 
burned  up,  and  I  can  tell  you  that  you  cannot  imagine 
how  much  we  suffered  on  the  march,  which  consisted 
of  three  days'  traveling,  loaded  down  with  our  bag- 
gage and  equipment,  sleeping  on  the  hard,  cold  ground, 
feet  sore,  half  fed  on  hard  dry  crackers  and  meat. 
Our  lot  was  not  to  be  envied,  and  it  is  amazing  how 
we  bore  up  under  the  circumstances.  We  have  been 
at  this  place  for  a  day  or  two,  for  what  purpose  I  know 
not,  unless  it  be  for  us  to  recruit  up  for  another  march. 
We  have  no  tents  here  to  sleep  in,  but  we  have  made 
ourselves  shelters  out  of  cedar  bushes.  We  all  seem 
to  flourish,  nevertheless. 

The  night  we  left  Manassas  it  was  burnt  down  and 
I  expect  there  was  a  million  of  goods  consumed  on 
that  night,  all  the  soldiers'  clothes  they  could  not  carry 
with  them  and  everything  that  could  have  been  ex- 
pected to  be  at  such  a  place  where  everything  was  sent 
to  this  division  of  the  army,  all  was  burnt. 

I  do  not  know  where  to  tell  you  to  send  your  letters, 
for  I  do  not  know  how  long  we  will  stay  here,  so  I 
reckon  you  had  better  not  write  at  all.  When  I  get 
to  a  place  where  it  is  likely  we  will  stay,  I  will  write 
again  at  a  better  opportunity. 

Give  my  love  to  all.     Goodbye. 

Your  loving  son, 

George. 


62  forget-me-nots  of  the  civiiv  war. 

Hdqts.  Special  Brigade,  Near  Rapidan 
Station,  Va.,  March  23rd,  1862. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

We  received  your  letter  last  night  dated  the  6th  of 
March.  'Tis  the  first  time  any  of  us  have  heard  from 
home  within  the  last  two  weeks.  We  have  had  con- 
siderable excitement  since  you  last  heard  from  us.  To- 
day, two  weeks  ago,  we  evacuated  Manassas  and  have 
been  moving  to  the  rear  ever  since.  We  are  now  on 
the  South  side  of  the  Rapidan  River,  where  I  think 
we  will  make  a  stand.  But  nothing  is  known  for  cer- 
tain, I  don't  believe  the  Generals  themselves  know. 
The  night  we  left  Manassas  (about  sunset)  we 
marched  ten  miles  that  night,  stopped  about  two  o'clock 
and  slept  on  the  ground  with  the  sky  for  a  covering. 
We  haven't  had  a  tent  in  two  weeks.  We  are  playing 
the  soldier  now  in  good  earnest.  The  last  three  days 
we  marched  it  rained  every  night  just  as  soon  as 
we  would  stop  for  the  night.  After  walking  all  day, 
carrying  your  ALL  on  your  back,  then  having  to  start 
a  fire  out  doors  without  wood  (we  have  no  light  wood) 
and  cook  your  next  day's  ration,  is  pretty  hard  soldier- 
ing, I  can  assure  you.  Though  the  boys  all  seem  to 
be  cheerful.  We  have  very  little  sickness  and  for  the 
last  ten  days  (a  circumstance  not  known  before  since 
we  have  been  in  Virginia)  we  haven't  had  a  man  to 
die  in  the  Regiment.  Pat  Simms  and  his  recruits  have 
not  yet  arrived,  they  were  stopped  at  Gordonsville 
some  time  ago,  while  we  were  making  our  retreat  from 
Manassas.     We  expect  them  daily. 

The  Yankees  have  been  some  distance  this  side  of 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE  AND  WALTER.  63 

Manassas.  Our  troupes  had  a  little  skirmish  with  them 
a  day  or  two  after  we  left,  some  of  the  Cavalry  came 
in  sight  of  our  pickets.  They  fired  on  them  and  they 
disappeared,  'tis  reported  that  they  have  gone  back 
to  Centerville,  perfectly  non-plussed  at  our  movement. 
The  country  we  are  now  occupying  is  the  prettiest  and 
the  most  beautiful  scenery  you  ever  saw.  We  can  see 
the  mountains  in  the  distance  covered  with  snow,  and 
when  the  sun  shines  it  is  sublime.  We  are  on  what  is 
called  the  "Clark  Mountain."  There  is  a  mountain 
or  rather  hill,  on  a  mountain,  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  off  that  commands  a  view  of  the  country  for 
miles  around,  some  of  the  men  are  up  there  all  the 
time.  I  intend  to  send  this  letter  to  Richmond  to  be 
mailed.  I  do  not  know  that  there  is  any  communica- 
tion between  here  and  Richmond.  We  only  got  the  old 
mail  that  was  stopped  at  Gordonville.  MacWilliams, 
one  of  our  company,  is  going  to  Richmond  tomorrow 
on  business.    I  will  get  him  to  mail  it  for  me. 

I  do  not  see  a  word  about  this  move  in  the  papers, 
so  I  must  think  the  Government  is  withholding  it 
from  them,  to  prevent  the  Yankees  from  obtaining 
information.  Johnnie  Dunham  is  still  A.  A.  Genl. 
of  the  Brigade  and  I  am  writing  for  him,  though  I  do 
not  have  one  third  to  do  that  I  did  at  Manassas,  as 
that  was  a  regular  military  post.  We  had  inspection 
to-day,  to  see  how  the  guns,  etc.,  were  getting  on  after 
the  hard  usage  and  bad  weather  they  have  gone 
through  lately. 

Write  soon.  We  may  get  all  of  your  letters,  though 
you  might  not  get  all  of  ours,  unless  mailed  beyond 


64  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE  THE   CIVIE  WAR. 

Gordonsville.     Give  my  love  to  all  the  family,  Aunt 
and  Claudia,  etc,  etc.     I  remain, 

Your  sincere  and  devoted  son, 

Walter. 

March  23rd,  1862. 
Dear  Mother: 

As  Walter  did  not  mention  me  in  his  letter,  I  thought 
I  would  let  you  know  that  I  am  well.  Walter  has 
told  you  nearly  everything  that  transpired  on  our 
tramp,  so  I  have  not  anything  to  tell  except  the  burn- 
ing of  the  property  at  Manassas  the  same  day  that 
we  left.  We  had  been  told  to  go  to  the  Junction  and 
get  what  things  out  of  our  boxes  as  we  could  carry 
on  our  backs,  for  the  boxes  would  not  be  carried  on 
the  train.  After  we  left,  the  town  was  set  on  fire,  and 
I  expect  that  a  million  dollars'  worth  of  property  was 
consumed.  We  had  to  leave  our  little  Bantam  chick- 
ens, as  we  had  no  way  to  carry  them.  The  first  night 
of  our  march,  I  never  suffered  so  much  from  fatigue 
in  my  life.  When  we  did  halt  we  fell  on  the  ground 
and  slept  soundly  until  next  morning.  I  do  not  expect 
you  can  hardly  read  this,  as  it  is  done  by  a  log  fire 
on  my  cartridge  box.     Must  close.     Good  bye. 

Your  loving  son, 

George. 

Yorktown,  Va.,  April  13,  1862. 
Dear  Mother: 

I  commenced  a  letter  to  you  the  other  day  but  was 
unable  to  finish  it,  being  called  off  to  participate  in  a 


LETTERS   EROM   GEORGE   AND   WALTER.  65 

slight  skirmish  with  the  Yankees.  We  arrived  at  this 
place  last  Thursday  evening  and  having  sent  out  our 
portion  of  the  picket,  of  which  I  was  one,  we  ate  our 
hard  bread  and  meat  and  laid  on  the  hard,  cold  ground 
for  the  night,  with  the  blankets  we  brought  on  our 
backs  for  a  covering.  On  Friday  we  were  ordered  out, 
for  the  Yankees  were  about  to  attack  us,  our  skir- 
mishers went  out  towards  the  enemy  for  the  purpose 
of  drawing  them  within  range  of  our  batteries,  the 
enemy  came  in  sight  with  a  long  line  of  artillery  and 
drew  up  in  battle  array  about  half  a  mile  from  our 
batteries,  by  that  time  there  was  some  right  hard  fight- 
ing on  the  part  of  the  skirmishers.  About  two  o'clock 
p.  m.,  our  batteries  opened  upon  them  and  they  were 
returned  with  the  greatest  alacrity;  bombs,  shells  and 
balls  flew  about  promiscuously,  but  happily  they  did 
no  damage  on  our  side,  nearly  all  of  them  going  over 
our  heads.  We  threw  some  shells  that  seemed  to  do 
damage  with  the  Yankees,  the  way  they  scattered  when 
the  shell  fell  among  them.  One  shell  which  came  over 
us  bursted  and  fell  all  around,  one  piece  fell  right  be- 
tween two  of  our  boys,  but  no  injury  done.  The 
firing  continued  until  dark,  in  the  time  the  skirmishers 
set  fire  to  a  large  dwelling  house,  near  the  enemy's 
infantry  and  under  the  cover  of  the  smoke  they  broke 
in  on  them  and  routed  them,  but  they  had  soon  to  re- 
treat for  the  Yanks  turned  their  batteries  upon  them, 
after  which  hostilities  ceased  for  the  night.  We  lay 
in  the  entrenchments  all  night.  Next  morning,  Sat- 
urday, the  enemy  was  not  to  be  seen.  This  morning 
we  are  expecting  an  attack  again,  and  have  been  or- 


66  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE   THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

dered  into  the  entrenchments,  but  they  have  not  made 
an  attack  yet. 

Gen.  Magruder  says  that  if  they  do  not  attack  us 
to-day,  that  he  will  them  to-morrow.  We  are  exactly 
on  the  battle  ground  of  Washington  and  Cornwallis, 
but  all  that  remains  to  be  seen  are  the  old  breastworks 
of  the  British,  which  lie  immediately  behind  ours. 
The  Yankees  hold  the  same  position  that  Washington 
did.  There  is  also  the  place  where  Cornwallis  sur- 
rendered his  sword  to  Washington.  Yorktown  is  the 
oldest  place  I  ever  saw.  I  do  not  believe  that  there 
is  a  single  house  that  has  been  built  in  fifty  years.  As 
I  was  walking  through  the  town,  I  chanced  to  come 
upon  an  old  grave  yard,  that  had  gone  into  entire  ruin. 
There  could  be  seen  the  tombstone  of  the  Revolution- 
ary soldier,  citizen  and  foreigner.  The  oldest  one  was 
dated  1727,  that  was  the  tombstone  of  an  old  lady 
sixty  years  old,  and  another  of  a  president  of  his 
majesty's  council  in  Virginia.  He  died  in  1753,  and 
all  the  rest  of  nearly  the  same  date.  It  was  a  perfect 
pleasure  to  me  to  look  over  the  old  place,  such  a  con- 
trast to  the  clay  hills  of  Manassas.  I  feel  nearer 
home,  but  still  I  am  a  long  ways  off.  I  am  wanted 
now,  as  they  are  continually  detailing  men  for  some- 
thing or  other.  I  will  send  the  letter  I  wrote  the  other 
day.     When  the  battle  closes  I  will  write  again. 

Give  my  love  to  all. 

Your  loving  son, 

George. 

P.  S.  I  have  not  heard  from  Walter  yet,  except 
from  a  man  that  came  from  the  hospital,  he  says  that 
his  hand  is  nearly  well. 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE  AND   WALTER.  67 

Richmond,  Vav  June  15,  1862. 
Dear  Mother: 

I  hope  you  are  not  uneasy  about  me  because  I  have 
not  written  before.  I  knew  if  I  wrote  it  would  take 
a  week  for  you  to  get  it,  so  I  put  it  off  till  I  could  send 
it  by  Mr.  Albert  Farmer,  who  will  go  tomorrow.  The 
Surgeon  of  the  hospital  has  given  me  a  passport  to 
stay  wherever  I  please  in  the  city  and  report  to  him 
every  week.  I  believe  I  should  go  crazy  if  I  had  to 
stay  out  in  the  hospital  where  everything  is  so  dull  and 
disheartening.  In  fact  I  don't  believe  I  am  the  same 
being  I  was  two  weeks  ago,  at  least  I  don't  think  as 
I  used  to  and  things  don't  seem  as  they  did.  I  don't 
believe  I  will  ever  get  over  the  death  of  George.  The 
more  I  think  of  him  the  more  it  affects  me,  and  unless 
I  am  in  some  battle  and  excitement  I  am  eternally 
thinking  of  the  last  moments  of  his  life.  How  he 
must  have  suffered,  if  he  was  conscious  of  it.  I  shall 
never  forget  it.  I  think  a  long  letter  from  some  of 
you  would  make  me  feel  so  much  better.  I  shall  send 
by  Mr.  Farmer  my  watch,  sleeve  buttons,  also  the  shirt 
I  wore  off.  Everything  I  ought  to  have  left  at  home 
I  brought  away  and  a  great  many  things  I  ought  to 
have  brought  I  left  behind.  I  only  brought  one  flannel 
shirt,  and  by  the  way  I'll  send  this  one  back  and  try 
this  summer  without  them,  as  they  are  very  heavy  for 
summer  wear.  The  war  news  you  read  every  day  in 
the  papers,  but  Capt.  Billy  Brown  came  down  from 
Gordonville  with  some  of  Jackson's  prisoners.  He 
says  he  was  in  Lynchburg.  Twenty-two  hundred  were 
sent  in  and  that  thirteen  hundred  were  on  the  way. 


68  FORGET-ME-NOTS  oF   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

The  Yankees  that  are  near  Richmond,  we  don't  hear 
anything  of,  everything  is  quiet.  Please  some  of  you 
write  me  soon. 

Your  loving  son, 

Walter. 

Head  Quarters,  Anderson  Brigade, 
Ripley  Division,  August  11,  1862. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  am  sorry  I  have  kept  you  waiting  so  long  before 
writing  to  you,  but  I  thought  I  would  wait  until  I  could 
have  a  talk  with  General  Anderson  to  find  out  what  I 
was  to  do  before  writing.  I  sent  word  by  John  Hines, 
also  Dr.  Barham,  that  I  was  well  and  for  them  to  tell 
you  all  the  news.  When  I  arrived  at  the  Camp  of  our 
Regiment  it  was  gone  to  Malvern  Hill  to  have  a  fight 
with  the  Yankees.  They  did  not  return  in  a  day  or 
two.  General  Anderson  went  to  Richmond  immedi- 
ately on  business,  so  I  did  not  have  an  opportunity  of 
speaking  with  him  until  this  morning.  He  was  per- 
fectly willing  for  me  to  come  back  into  the  office,  so 
I  commenced  duty  this  morning.  We  have  a  very 
pleasant  place  for  our  quarters,  a  large  two  story  house 
with  plenty  of  shade,  in  an  open  field,  where  we  have 
the  breezes  from  every  direction. 

I  don't  know  yet,  but  I  may  come  up  here  to  mess 
and  sleep,  though  I  thought  I  would  wait  a  while.  I 
haven't  slept  in  a  tent  since  I've  been  in  camp,  but 
once.  That  was  last  night.  It  rained  yesterday  morn- 
ing, and  the  ground  was  wet,  and  the  air  rather  cold, 
so  I  thought  I  would  go  in  the  tent,  as  it  was  con- 


LETTERS   EROM    GEORGE   AND   WAI/TER.  69 

venient.  I  shall  go  in  bathing  tonight  to  cool  off,  and 
sleep  out  doors.  We  have  an  excellent  place  for  that 
purpose,  that  is  bathing.  It's  been  awfully  hot  here 
today.     I  believe  it  is  wanner  here  than  at  home. 

General  G.  W.  Smith  was  to-day  assigned  to  the 
command  of  our  Division.  I  understand  he  is  an  ex- 
cellent officer.  Some  of  our  regiments  in  this  brigade 
have"  received  their  conscripts.  They  are  a  very  good 
looking  set  of  men  seen  drilling  in  a  field,  as  they 
were  this  morning.  It  looks  right  funny  to  see  men 
so  green,  but  I  suppose  all  of  us  were  so  at  first,  and 
we  ought  not  to  make  fun  of  them.  Dossey's  Regi- 
ment is  only  about  half  mile  from  here.  He  has  been 
to  see  me  twice  since  I  have  been  here.  I  went  over  to 
see  him  last  Saturday.  He  was  very  well.  I  went  up 
to  see  Dunham  when  I  passed  through  Richmond,  but 
he  had  gone  home  the  week  before,  so  I  was  disap- 
pointed. Give  my  best  respects  to  all  friends,  and  my 
love  to  all  the  family,  some  of  you  write  often  and  tell 
me  everything  that  happens  about  town. 

Goodbye,  as  ever, 

Your  loving  son, 

Walter. 

P.  S.  I've  got  to  endorse  this  letter  for  the  want 
of  stamps.  I  haven't  written  any  in  so  long  a  time 
that  my  hand  is  as  stiff  as  if  I  had  been  mauling  rails, 
you  can  readily  see  the  difference  now  and  some  time 
ago.     I  hope  it  will  soon  get  better. 

I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  our  whole  brigade  was 
throwing  up  breastworks  every  day,  about  two  miles 
from  here,  that  is  the  only  duty  they  do  now,  no  guard 
duty. 


70  forget-me-nots  of  the  civil  war. 

Head  Quarters,  Anderson  Brigade, 

August  15,  1862. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

As  Mr.  Parker  will  leave  in  the  morning  for  home, 
I  thought  I  would  avail  myself  of  the  opportunity  to 
let  you  hear  from  me.  There  is  nothing  new  to  write 
in  the  way  of  "War  News."  You  hear  everything  that 
we  do,  and  that's  in  the  papers.  Everything  on  our 
lines  is  quiet.  We  were  put  under  marching  orders 
a  day  or  two  ago,  with  the  expectation  of  making 
another  march  to  "Malvern  Hill,"  but  the  Yankees 
left  and  it  saved  us  the  trouble  of  running  them  away. 
Eight  hundred  of  the  Brigade  are  still  working  on 
the  breastworks,  some  two  miles  below  here.  I  am 
in  hopes  the  Yankees  will  never  get  near  enough  to 
Richmond  for  us  to  have  to  fight  behind  them.  The 
other  regiment  in  the  Brigade  has  received  their  con- 
scripts, ours  is  the  smallest  one  and  we  haven't  re- 
ceived a  single  one,  and  I  hope  we  won't. 

General  Anderson  was  making  a  calculation  this 
morning  and  he  says  that  we  have  lost  226  men,  killed 
and  died  from  their  wounds,  since  the  day  before  we 
went  into  the  fight  at  "Seven  Pines."  The  Regiment 
is  now  under  command  of  Pat  Simms.  All  of  our 
company  are  in  very  good  health.  I  don't  believe  that 
we  have  a  single  man  on  the  sick  list,  and  I  believe  it 
is  owing  in  a  great  degree  to  the  good  water  we  get. 
It  is  the  best  we  have  had  since  we've  been  in  Vir- 
ginia. I  am  getting  along  very  well  indeed,  enjoy- 
ing excellent  health,  and  have  a  very  pleasant  time. 

We  have  very  little  writing  to  do,  not  half  as  much 


LETTERS   FROM    GEORGE   AND   WAETE,R.  71 

as  we  had  at  Manassas.  General  Anderson  has  no 
Adj.  General  yet.  I  would  not  be  surprised  if  he 
was  not  waiting  for  Dunham  to  get  well.  I  believe 
he  likes  Dunham  better  as  an  officer  than  any  man  in 
the  Brigade.  He  has  one  of  his  brothers  (Walker) 
as  one  of  his  Aides.  I  wish  you  would  please  look 
in  my  trunk  and  send  me  that  brown  veil  that  you 
will  find.  I  want  it  to  put  over  my  face  when  I  take 
a  nap  in  the  morning,  to  keep  off  the  flies.  You 
never  saw  any  flies  yet,  you  can  measure  them  by  the 
bushel  here.  The  mosquitoes  are  terrible  here,  too.  I 
shall  put  it  over  my  face  when  I  sleep  out  of  doors, 
and  that's  every  night  that  it  don't  rain.  I've  just 
learned  from  Mr.  Parker  that  little  Leon  was  dead. 
Poor  little  fellow,  I  never  thought  that  when  I  left 
home  it  would  be  the  last  time  I  should  see  him. 

Give  my  love  to  all  the  family,  my  respects  to  all 
my  friends.     Write  soon,  tell  me  all  the  news. 
Your  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 
P.  S.     Please  send  the  veil  by  the  first  one  coming 
to  our  camp.     Give  my  respects  to  all  the  boys  that 
you  see. 

Head  Quarters,  Anderson  Brigade, 
30  Miles  From  Richmond  on  Manapas 

Railroad,,  August  23rd,  1862. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

This  is  the  first  opportunity  that  I  have  had  to 
write  to  you  since  we  left  our  camp  near  Richmond. 
Mr.  Christman  left  us,  or  rather  parted  from  us,  in 


72  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

Richmond  as  we  passed  through  on  our  march.  Blake 
and  myself  did  not  get  the  barrel  that  was  sent  by  Mr. 
Christman,  though  we  had  just  as  much  fruit  and 
Irish  potatoes  (that  the  company  received)  as  we 
could  eat.  We  left  the  very  next  morning  after  the 
night  Mr.  Christman  arrived.  The  first  day  we 
marched  about  14  miles  and  camped  in  an  open  field, 
the  next  day  we  march  all  day  until  dark.  We 
stopped,  ate  our  supper,  spread  our  blankets  and  was 
just  going  to  sleep,  nearly  every  man  exhausted,  when 
the  drum  sounded  and  the  order  given  for  every  man 
to  be  under  arms.  In  ten  minutes  the  brigade  marched 
off  and  we  continued  the  march  until  nearly  day.  The 
next  morning,  that  is  those  that  kept  up,  (the  road  for 
ten  miles  was  strewn  with  men  who  had  fallen  out  of 
ranks  from  exhaustion).  We  are  now  encamped  at 
the  place  we  arrived  at  that  night.  We  have  been  here 
three  days  and  it  is  impossible  to  tell  when  we  will 
leave.  This  is  a  very  important  position  for  the  Aides 
of  General  Jackson.  The  Yankees  are  about  twelve 
miles  from  us  and  it  was  supposed  that  they  would 
make  an  attack  at  this  point,  is  the  reason  we  were  in 
such  a  hurry  to  get  here  that  night.  We  would  have 
made  a  very  poor  stand  if  they  had.  I  don't  suppose 
we  had  more  than  one  third  of  the  men  when  we 
arrived  here  that  night,  when  we  came  through  Rich- 
mond. I  had  a  very  good  opportunity  of  judging  as 
our  company  was  detailed  that  day  as  a  war  guard 
of  the  Brigade,  to  prevent  straggling,  and  I  marched 
behind  with  them  for  company.  It's  no  use  trying  to 
make  a  broken  down  man  get  up  and  march.     We 


I^TTDRS   FROM   GEORGE  AND   WAETER.  73 

didn't  know  but  what  the  Yankees  were  near  or  ad- 
vancing on  us,  but  the  men  would  lie  right  down  side  of 
the  road  and  swear  they  could  not  go  one  foot  far- 
ther, Yankees  or  no  Yankees.  They  are  still  coming 
in  though  it  has  been  three  days  ago. 

You  may  say  what  you  please  about  marching 
twenty  or  thirty  miles  a  day  in  warm  weather,  but  I 
don't  believe  in  it.  The  last  day  we  marched  twenty- 
six  miles,  we  started  at  daylight  and  didn't  stop  until 
nearly  day  break  the  next  morning,  with  about  one 
third  of  the  men,  when  we  got  to  the  end  of  our  route, 
we  had  when  we  started  and  they  were  good  for  noth- 
ing, with  their  feet  all  blistered  and  sore.  Mine -have 
just  got  so  I  can  walk  without  limping.  You  may 
direct  your  next  letter  to  Richmond  as  heretofore,  put- 
ting on  the  back  "Smith's  Division,"  and  I  reckon  it 
will  be  forwarded.  We  have  a  very  pleasant  place  to 
camp.  I  wouldn't  care  if  we  were  to  stay  here  for  a 
month.  General  Anderson  and  his  Staff  are  in  tents 
at  present,  no  house  being  near.  Col.  Grimes  arrived 
this  morning.  The  men  are  all  very  glad  to  see  him 
return.  They  all  love  him  since  the  fights  that  he  has 
led  them  in.  Give  my  love  to  all  the  family.  Tell 
sister  to  write.  I  have  writen,  I  believe,  three  letters 
home  and  haven't  received  but  one. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 


74  forget-me-nots  op  the  civil,  war. 

Head  Quarters,  Anderson's  Brigade, 
South  Side  op  Potomac,  Opposite 
Berlin,  Loudon  Co.,  Sept.  5,  1862. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  guess  you  are  all  very  anxious  about  me,  that  is 
to  know  my  whereabouts.  Since  I  last  wrote  you  I 
have  been  through  the  most  hardships  that  I  ever  have 
before.  Today  makes  eleven  successive  days  that  we 
have  been  on  the  march,  without  resting  a  day  since 
we  left  Anderson's  station,  the  place  from  which  I  last 
wrote  you.  We  are  now  on  the  side  south  of  the  Poto- 
mac, opposite  a  place  called  Berlin,  where  there  is 
some  Yankees,  don't  know  how  many.  We  have  our 
brigade  and  a  tolerable  good  force  of  Artillery  at 
this  point.  What  we  intend  to  do  or  where  we  are 
going,  it's  impossible  to  say.  The  men  are  all  very 
anxious  to  drop  over  into  Maryland  and  I  don't  know 
but  what  that  will  be  our  next  move.  We  have  just 
stopped  for  the  night,  after  a  march  of  about  twenty 
miles.  I'm  in  a  hurry  to  finish  before  dark,  as  we 
have  no  candles  or  lightwood.  Mr.  Ed  Marsh  will 
leave  for  North  Carolina  in  the  morning,  he  will 
carry  our  mail.  We  haven't  had  a  chance  to  send  off 
our  mail  before,  since  we  waded  the  Rapidan  River. 
Day  before  yesterday  we  marched  over  the  battle 
ground  that  Jackson  had  his  last  fight  on.  All  of  our 
men  had  been  buried,  but  the  Yankees  lay  just  as  they 
were  killed.  I  never  saw  such  a  scene  before.  I  saw 
just  from  the  road,  as  I  did  not  go  out  of  my  way  to 
see  any  more.  It  must  have  been  nearly  a  thousand. 
Our  wagon  actually  ran  over  the  dead  bodies  in  the 


I^TTERS   FROM   GEORGE   AND   WALTER.  75 

road  before  they  would  throw  them  out,  or  go  around 
them.  The  trees  were  literally  shot  all  to  pieces.  The 
wounded  Yankees  were  all  over  the  woods,  in  squads 
of  a  dozen  or  more,  under  some  shady  tree  without 
any  quard  of  any  kind  to  guard  them.  I  recollect  one 
squad  on  the  side  of  the  road  with  their  bush  shelter  in 
ten  steps  of  a  dead  Yankee,  that  had  not  been  buried 
and  was  horribly  mangled.  I  don't  suppose  the  dead 
Yankees  of  that  fight  will  ever  be  buried.  It  will  be 
an  awful  job  to  those  who  do  it,  if  it  is  ever  done. 
There  is  some  five  or  six  of  our  company  that  have 
not  come  up  yet.  Blake  is  among  the  number.  They 
are  not  sick,  merely  broken  down.  The  Second  N.  C. 
Regiment  haven't  more  than  half  of  the  men  with 
them  now,  that  they  had  when  they  left  Richmond. 
It  has  been  an  awfully  hard  march.  Two  men  died  in 
one  day  from  sun  stroke.  The  weather  is  not  so  warm 
now  as  some  days  ago.  It  takes  two  or  three  blankets 
to  keep  us  warm  at  night,  it  is  so  cool.  The  days  are 
very  warm.  I  hope  to  gracious  that  we  will  stay 
here  tomorrow  and  rest  a  while,  it's  a  beautiful  place 
on  the  side  of  the  Blue  Ridge.  The  sun  will  not 
strike  the  ground  where  our  headquarters  are  during 
the  whole  day.  I  don't  know  where  to  tell  you  to  di- 
rect your  next  letter.  Richmond,  though,  I  reckon. 
Give  my  love  to  all  the  family.  Goodbye.  I'll  now 
cook  my  supper.  I'll  have  an  excellent  one  tonight, 
chicken,  and  sugar  and  coffee  and  biscuit. 

Yours,  etc., 

Walter. 
I  bought  sugar  at  12y2c  per  pound  and  coffee  at  25c 
pound  this  morning  in  a  store  on  our  way. 


76  eorget-me-nots  oe  the  civil  war. 

Head  Quarter's  Anderson's  Brigade, 
Mar.  Bunker's  Hill,  Va., 

Sept.  29,  1862. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

It  has  been  some  time  since  I  last  wrote  you.  I 
hope  you  have  not  been  uneasy  about  me,  for  I  have 
never  been  in  better  health  in  my  life.  During  the 
past  two  months  we  have  been  on  the  march  almost 
constantly,  sometimes  resting  one  or  two  days,  but 
never  longer. 

On  Sunday,  the  14th  of  September,  we  left  our  camp 
at  4  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  marched  some  six 
miles  to  the  top  of  the  Blue  Ridge  and  drew  up  in 
line  of  battle.  We  were  not  long  waiting  for  the 
Yankees,  they  came  in  very  large  columns  and  we 
fought  until  after  dark.  That  night  our  troops  fell 
back  through  Boonsboro  some  few  miles  and  drew  up 
in  line  of  battle  little  after  sunrise,  very  little  fighting 
was  done  on  that  day,  only  some  cannonading.  We 
continued  in  our  position  until  the  17th  inst,  when 
we  had  almost  a  general  engagement.  The  line  of 
battle  of  our  Brigade  was  some  two  hundred  yards  in 
front  of  a  house  in  which  General  D.  H.  Hill  and 
General  Anderson  had  their  Head  Quarters.  The 
fight  commenced  in  the  morning  before  I  awoke  (long 
before  sunrise),  soon  after  light  the  wounded  from  the 
Artillery  commenced  coming  in,  pretty  soon  the 
wounded  infantry  came  in  by  the  dozens.  There 
wasn't  a  surgeon  on  the  battle  field  from  our  Brigade, 
but  Gus  Stith.  He  stayed  there  to  the  last.  He,  his 
two  assistants  and  myself  dressed  the  wounds  until 


LETTERS  FROM    GEORGE  AND   WALTER.  77 

the  Yankees  got  in  30  yards  of  the  house.  General 
Anderson  was  anxious  to  get  off  before  the  Yankees 
got  nearer.  He  did  not  want  to  be  taken  prisoner  by 
them.  He  would  prefer  being  shot  through  the  head, 
so  Capt.  Gales,  his  A.  A.  General,  myself  and  two 
other  men  of  the  Ambulance  Corps  carried  him 
through  a  field  that  looked  like  it  was  impossible  for 
man  to  walk  ten  steps  without  being  killed,  though  we 
got  out  safe.  A  piece  of  shell  struck  me  on  the  knee, 
which  occasioned  some  little  inconvenience  for  a  few 
days,  but  nothing  else.  The  house  in  which  we  were 
was  the  hottest  part  of  the  battle  field,  we  were  exposed 
to  a  cross  fire  of  two  Yankee  Batteries  and  from  the 
front  by  musket  balls.  The  house,  kitchen,  trees  and 
everything  else  was  torn  and  shot  all  to  pieces.  We 
had  a  large  pot  full  of  chicken  on  the  stove,  cooking 
for  dinner,  when  a  bomb  took  off  one-half  of  the 
kitchen  and  turned  the  stove  bottom  upwards.  That 
stopped  the  splendid  dinner  we  had  in  preparation. 
You  must  get  Gus  Stith  to  tell  you  all  about  our  cam- 
paign, adventures,  etc.  He  can  do  it  better  than  I 
can  write  it.  Every  day's  march  through  Maryland 
I  could  write  a  long  letter,  but  when  it  is  all  past  and 
forgotten  I  can't  think  of  one  thing  that  I  wished  tq 
write.  If  I  ever  live  to  get  home  I  can  think  of  one 
thing  at  a  time,  and  tell  you  a  great  many  little  inci- 
dents of  interest.  The  Northern  part  of  Virginia  and 
some  parts  of  Maryland  is  the  most  beautiful  country 
that  I  ever  saw.  I  don't  know  how  it  is  in  the  winter, 
but  from  the  looks  of  the  soil,  it's  as  muddy  as  Ma- 
nassas, I  reckon.     We  (our  company)  lost  several  in 


78  eorget-me-nots  oe  the  CIVII,  WAR. 

the  two  battles,  none  killed,  but  some  badly  wounded, 
others  taken  prisoners  or  have  not  come  up  yet,  may 
be  wounded  and  left  on  the  battlefield  and  had  to  be 
left  in  the  hands  of  the  Yankees  when  we  fell  back 
this  side  of  the  Potomac.  We  are  now  encamped  on 
the  Turnpike  from  Martinsburg  to  Winchester,  some 
ten  miles  from  the  latter  place. 

I  don't  know  where  to  tell  you  to  direct  your  next 
letter,  Richmond,  though,  I  reckon.  Our  mail  for  this 
Brigade  is  at  Winchester,  we  will  get  that  to-day.  I 
hope  to  get  some  letters  from  home  when  it  comes.  I 
must  close  this  so  as  to  have  it  ready  when  Gus  Stith 
starts,  he  can't  tell  when,  so  I  must  have  it  ready.  I 
may  get  something  in  the  mail  before  this  gets  off. 

Your  loving  son, 

Wai  ter 

Near  Bunker  Hill,  Va.,  October  1st,  1862. 
Dear  Mother: 

I  have  just  received  a  letter  from  you,  dated  Sept. 
2nd.  It  is  the  first  word  I  have  heard  from  home  since 
I  left  Richmond  (I  forgot  I  did  receive  one  letter  down 
at  Anderson's  station,  30  miles  from  Richmond).  It 
appears  that  you  have  not  received  the  letter  I  wrote 
from  the  Potomac,  opposite  Berlin,  though  you  must 
have  gotten  it  before  now.  I  heard  that  Pat  Simms 
will  be  in  Wilson  for  a  short  time  as  detail  for  our 
winter  clothing.  He  can  tell  you  all  about  that  trip. 
It  has  been  so  long  that  I  have  forgotton  almost  all 
about  it.  I  shall  send  this  by  Dr.  Stith,  as  he  starts  in 
the  morning.    You  can  get  him  to  tell  you  a  good  deal 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE   AND   WALTER.  79 

of  news  if  you  choose.  Dr.  Stith  and  Pat  Wooten 
came  up  this  morning.  I  haven't  been  up  to  see  them 
yet.  I  must  sleep  and  stay  at  head  quarters  nearly  all 
the  time,  as  it  is  more  convenient  and  I  get  plenty  of 
something  to  eat,  and  often  something  extra.  If  Pat 
Simms  goes  home,  as  I  think  he  will,  you  may  send 
me  my  two  flannel  shirts  and  my  drawers,  also  two 
pair  of  woolen  socks.  I  reckon  I  will  have  to  make 
out  with  shoes  this  winter,  though  if  you  can  have 
me  a  good  pair  of  winter  sewed  boots  made  (large  6s) 
you  may  send  them  also,  and  the  price.  If  I  can't 
wear  them  myself  I  can  sell  them  for  any  price  I  may 
choose  to  ask.  See  if  Pat  is  willing  to  bring  them 
first  and  if  he  is  certain  that  he  can  get  them  here  with- 
out being  lost.  Write  often  by  some  of  the  boys  that 
are  coming. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 

Head  Quarters,  Anderson's  Brigade, 

November  14,   1862. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

As  I  have  another  good  opportunity  of  sending  a 
letter  the  other  side  of  Richmond  to  be  mailed,  I 
thought  I  would  avail  myself  of  it.  One  of  our  sur- 
geons will  leave  in  the  morning  for  North  Carolina,  so 
that  I  can  have  my  letter  mailed  very  near  home,  it 
will  stand  less  chance  of  being  lost.  I  have  neglected 
to  write  to  you  longer  than  I  wished,  waiting  for  an 
opportunity  of  sending  it  by  some  one.  This  is  the 
first  chance  that  has  occurred.     The  letters  that  are 


80  #ORG3T-ME-NOTS   OF   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

mailed  here  for  North  Carolina,  not  one  half  of  them 
ever  get  there,  so  I  made  up  my  mind  not  to  write  ex- 
cept when  I  knew  you  would  receive  it.  We  have 
been  through  a  good  many  hardships  since  I  last  wrote 
to  you,  tho'  we  haven't  had  any  fighting,  that  is,  our 
Brigade  has  not,  tho'  we  have  lain  in  line  of  battle 
several  days  and  nights  at  the  time,  waiting  for  the 
advance  of  the  enemy.  The  strongest  position  I  think 
our  Division  ever  occupied  was  on  the  mountains  be- 
hind rock  fences,  near  Paris.  We  stayed  there  one 
day  and  night,  but  the  Yankees  didn't  come.  We  left 
there  and  marched  to  Fort  Royal,  there  we  laid  in  line 
of  battle  two  days  and  one  night.  Little  after  dark 
the  second  day  we  got  orders  to  cross  the  Shenandoah 
River  and  take  up  camp  some  mile  or  two  off  for  the 
night.  The  men  were  cold  and  hungry  and  some- 
what expecting  the  Yankees  that  night,  when  the  word 
was  given  they  started  at  a  double  quick  for  the  river, 
some  half  mile  off,  and  in  they  went,  half  waist 
deep,  the  water  was  freezing  cold  and  the  wind  almost 
cutting  you  in  two.  I  guess  you  know  something  about 
the  mountain  winds  in  the  winter.  For  the  next  few 
days  we  had  some  rest,  but  we  don't  lie  idle  in  camp 
long  at  a  time.  Night  before  last  we  marched  seven 
miles,  tore  up  and  burned  railroads  all  night,  and 
marched  back  ten  miles  the  next  day.  To-day  is  a 
beautiful  sunshiny  one,  and  I  hope  we  will  remain 
quiet  for  the  men's  sake.  We  have  had  one  snow  some 
two  or  three  inches  deep,  though  it  melted  very  soon, 
there  are  thousands  of  barefooted  men  in  Virginia  and 
I  do  hope  we  will  have  pleasant  weather  until  they 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE  AND   WALTER.  81 

can  get  shoes.  We  have  a  good  many  in  our  Brigade 
stark  barefooted,  and  have  not  had  a  shoe  on  since 
we  left  Richmond  some  months  ago.  John  Burton, 
poor  fellow,  was  paroled  and  came  up  with  us  some 
week  or  two  back,  looking  dreadfully.  He  has  gone 
home  on  a  furlough.  He  was  barefooted  and  almost 
clothesless.  My  feet  can  just  be  said  to  be  off  the  ground 
and  that  is  all.  They  are  no  protection  from  wet 
weather.  I  hope  Pat  Simms  will  come  soon  and  have 
my  boots  with  him.  I  am  glad  you  sent  me  a  pair 
of  pants,  as  these  are  entirely  worn  out.  I  have 
been  patching  them  up  for  some  time.  There  is  two 
big  patches  on  the  knees  as  large  as  your  two  hands, 
put  on  with  blue  cloth,  you  recollect  the  pants  are 
brown.  I  never  thought  to  mention  any  clothes  in 
my  letter.  I  hope  you  thought  of  them.  I  need  a 
pair.  I  also  need  an  overcoat,  but  I  will  have  to  wait 
until  the  Regiment  get  their  clothes  before  I  can  get 
one.  I  hope  before  one  month  more  passes  we  will 
be  on  the  railroad  somewhere,  so  I  can  get  something 
good  to  eat  once  more.  I  think  I  will  know  how  to 
appreciate  something  good  after  living  on  beef  and 
bread  for  so  long.  I  want  some  oysters  and  sweet 
potatoes  and  other  winter  delicacies  so  much.  I  hope, 
if  we  ever  do  get  where  I  can  change  my  diet,  I  will 
be  able  to  stop  the  diarrhoea  which  has  been  reducing 
me  for  some  time.  I've  fallen  off  considerable  since 
we  left  Richmond.  With  that  exception  I  have  noth- 
ing to  complain  of.  In  a  great  many  respects  I  fare 
a  great  deal  better  than  the  officers  of  the  regiment 
do.     I  have  better  fare  and  not  half  the  duty  to  do. 


82  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OE  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

The  other  night,  when  all  the  men  were  at  work  on 
the  railroad,  I  was  with  our  wagon  and  had  as  com- 
fortable a  night's  sleep  as  I  ever  do.  I  very  often  get 
a  chance  to  ride  on  the  march,  too,  for  the  last  sev- 
eral marches  I  have  ridden  Col.  Grimes'  extra  horse. 
Since  we  left  Richmond  we  have  crossed  twenty 
streams  waist  deep  and  very  often  in  the  night,  and 
I  have  never  waded  one  yet.  I  always  get  a  ride 
across,  some  way  or  another. 

We  will  have  a  general  change  at  Headquarters  in 
a  few  days.  General  Ramseur  is  assigned  to  this 
Brigade  and  I  expect  he  will  bring  his  own  Staff  with 
him.  I'll  stand  as  good  a  chance  of  remaining  as  any 
of  them  and  I  think  I  will  be  very  apt  to  remain,  at 
least  I  shall  try  to  do  so.  I  hope  he  will  be  as  clever 
as  the  other  commanders  have  been.  I  like  Col. 
Grimes  very  much  and  I  think  he  is  more  entitled  to 
the  promotion  of  Brigadier  than  Ramseur,  who  was 
only  a  Captain  of  Artillery,  though  they  say  he  is  a 
West  Pointer,  and  a  very  good  officer.  I  hope  he  will 
prove  himself  to  be  as  good  as  General  Anderson  was, 
though  that  is  hardly  possible.  I  don't  think  he  had 
his  equal  in  the  Confederate  Army.  I  hope  Dr.  Har- 
rell  will  pass  his  examination  and  get  in  the  army  as 
surgeon.  It  is  the  easiest  and  most  comfortable  posi- 
tion there  is  in  the  Army. 

Tell  Mr.  Rhodes  if  I  was  in  his  place  I  would  try 
and  get  in  a  new  company,  one  that  has  not  been  in 
long.  Dr.  Bullock's  Company  would  suit  him  better 
than  any  other.  He  thinks  that  we've  got  a  good  one 
and  a  picket  company,  but  it  is  not  what  it  was,  and  he 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE  AND   WALTER.  83 

would  be  out  of  place  all  the  time  if  he  would  try  to 
keep  up  with  men  who  had  been  playing  the  old  soldier 
for  nearly  two  years.  I  would  rather  be  dead  than 
in  the  place  of  some  of  the  Conscripts  sent  to  our 
Regiment,  they  look  like  they  wanted  to  die,  they  felt 
so  bad.  Please  let  me  know  in  your  next  whether 
you  ever  received  my  watch  or  not.  I've  asked  in 
every  letter  and  you've  never  told  me  yet.  Write  soon 
to  your 

Affectionate  son, 

Walter. 
Give  my  love  to  all  the  family,  tell  some  of  them  to 
write.     I  haven't  sent  a  letter  home  yet  with  a  stamp 
on  it,  it  is  because  we  can't  possibly  get  them  and  I 
know  it  makes  no  difference  with  you. 

Headquarters  Fourth  Brigade. 

November  27,  1862. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  received  your  letter  yesterday,  and  also  one  from 
brother  by  Mr.  Gorman.  I  was  very  glad  to  hear 
from  you,  as  I  had  not  received  any  news  from  home 
in  some  time.  He  handed  me  the  gloves  also,  which 
you  sent  by  him.  Nothing  ever  came  in  better  time 
in  the  world.  I  had  been  trying  my  best  to  get  a  pair 
of  some  kind  ever  since  cold  weather  set  in,  but  could 
not,  gloves  such  as  you  sent  me  sell  for  $3.00  in  this 
country,  and  everything  else  in  proportion.  The  last 
letter  that  I  wrote  home,  sent  to  Richmond  by  Capt. 
John  Grimes  to  be  mailed*  was  from  our  Camp  near 
Strasburg,  Va.     We  left  there  on  Friday,  the  21st, 


84  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF   THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

and  arrived  here  on  Tuesday  evening,  the  25th,  mak- 
ing a  march  of  over  one  hundred  miles  in  four  days. 
It  is  the  best  marching  that  we  have  ever  done,  it's 
because  we  are  going  towards  home,  I  reckon,  that 
the  men  did  so  well.  There  are  hundreds  of  them 
barefooted  and  ice  on  the  ground  all  day.  General 
Hill  issued  an  order  yesterday  requiring  all  the  bare- 
footed men  to  make  sandals  of  raw  hides  with  the 
hair  on  the  inside.  It  answers  the  purpose  very  well. 
It's  a  wonder  the  idea  had  not  been  thought  of  sooner, 
before  the  men  suffered  so  much.  Gorman  says  that 
Pat  Simms  will  be  here  to-day  with  the  things  for  the 
Regiment.  I  hope  he  will  be,  for  I  need  my  boots  very 
badly,  also  my  pants.  I  shall  draw  a  pair  of  pants 
from  the  Regimental  clothing,  also  a  pair  of  shoes. 
I  bought  me  a  Yankee  overcoat,  a  very  comfortable 
one,  for  $12.50,  a  better  coat  than  our  men  draw  at 
more  money.  We  are  now  on  our  way  to  Hanover 
Junction,  some  fifty  miles  off.  We  have  stopped  here 
to  transport  our  sick  on  the  cars  ahead  of  us,  though 
we  have  been  here  going  on  two  days,  a  longer  time 
than  would  be  required  for  that  purpose.  We  have  no 
idea  how  long  we  will  stay  here.  From  what  you  write 
about  your  exchanging  farms,  I  think  you  made  a 
very  good  bargain.  I  wish  I  could  be  with  you  to 
help  you  fix  it  up.  The  boys  are  all  well  as  could  be 
expected.  Virgil  Stevens  looks  thin  from  diarrhoea. 
Tom  Stith  looks  as  fat  as  a  pig.  Buck  Hansill  is  the 
same  old  "Buck,"  though  Marshbourns,  that  is  Sam,  is 
well  and  tough,  Jim  I  don't  recollect  having  seen  for 
some  time.     I  really  don't  know  whether  he  is  in  the 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE  AND   WALTER.  85 

company  or  not.  I  did  write  to  you  and  intended  to 
send  it  by  Ed  Gordon,  but  he  left  just  before*  I  car- 
ried my  letters  up  to  the  Company  to  give  him.  The 
next  time  any  one  leaves  Wilson  for  the  Company, 
please  send  me  some  kind  of  tonic  bitters.  I  need 
something  of  the  kind. 

Give  my  love  to  all,  and  believe  me  as  ever, 
Your  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 

Head  Quarters  Fourth  Brigade, 
Hill's  Div.,  Near  Gunney  Depot, 
12  Miles  From  Fredericksburg, 

December  2nd.,  1862. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

Once  more  settled  in  camp  for  a  little  while,  long 
enough  to  write,  at  least,  I  thought  I  would  let  you 
know  where  we  are  and  what  we  are  doing.  We  are 
on  the  railroad  between  Richmond  and  Fredericksburg, 
some  twelve  miles  from  the  latter  place.  What  we 
are  doing,  one  hasn't  the  remotest  idea.  We  can't 
tell  whether  we  are  going  to  fight  here  or  not,  or  how 
long  we  shall  stay  here.  I  think  the  most  of  our  army 
is  in  this  vicinity  and  some  part  of  it  is  constantly 
in  motion.  Ewell's  Division  is  now  passing  our  en- 
campment. I'm  in  hopes  we  will  stay  here  until  our 
men  get  their  clothing.  Ed  Gordon  has  just  returned, 
though  he  does  not  bring  any  news  from  home.  He 
says  that  Pat  Simms  will  start  back  to-day.  He 
certainly  has  appointed  enough  times  for  starting  to 
have  been  here  long  before  now,  if  he  is  not  able  to 


86  FORG£T-M£-NOTS   OF   TH£    CIVIL    WAR. 

bring  the  things,  why  doesn't  he  let  some  one  else 
come  with  them.  The  men  have  been  kept  out  of  their 
clothing  long  enough.  May  Warren,  I  understand,  is 
willing  to  bring  them.  If  you  should  receive  this  be- 
fore any  of  them  leaves,  please  send  my  watch  and 
chain  by  him,  I  need  the  use  of  it  very  much  and  I 
don't  think  there  is  any  danger  of  my  losing  it  or  being 
killed  this  winter  or  fall,  campaign  is  about  over.  If 
both  of  them  have  left,  please  send  it  by  the  first 
reliable  person  coming  to  our  company.  Please  have 
a  key  fitted  to  it  and  send  that  also,  also  a  piece  of 
buckskin  in  my  trunk.  Wrap  them  all  up  together 
and  enjoin  the  one  that  brings  it  to  be  very  careful 
with  it,  and  not  to  lose  it.  I  have  not  time  to  write 
much  more,  as  Major  Miller,  who  is  going  to  take  my 
letter  to  Richmond  to  be  mailed,  is  in  a  hurry  to  go 
to  the  depot,  for  fear  of  being  left.  I  received  the 
things  which  you  sent  by  Buck  Hansill,  also  the  gloves 
you  sent  by  John  Gorman,  all  I  need  now  are  the  things 
which  you  are  going  to  send  by  Pat  Simms.  Give  my 
love  to  all  the  family  and  believe  me,  as  ever,  your 

Affectionate  son, 

Walter. 

P.  S.  Write  often  and  tell  me  all  the  news  about 
home.  Wrap  my  watch  up  very  securely  and  direct 
it  to  me.  Don't  forget  to  send  me  a  key  for  it,  as  I 
have  none. 


I^TT^RS   FROM   GEORGE  AND   WALTER.  87 

Williamsport,  Mdv  July  8,  1863. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

As  I  think  there  will  be  an  opportunity  of  sending 
off  a  letter  in  a  day  or  two,  I  believe  I  will  drop  you 
a  few  lines  to  let  you  know  of  some  of  my  adventures 
since  I  last  wrote  you  (Winchester).  We  have  had 
rain  every  day  since  we  left  Winchester.  I've  been 
marching  about  ten  to  twenty  miles  a  day.  After  the 
first  two  days  our  squad  of  two  hundred  dwindled 
down  to  about  fifteen  men,  most  of  whom  were 
officers.  A  Lieutenant  from  Texas  commanded  us. 
We  were  bound  to  form  squads  of  some  strength  to 
prevent  "bushwhackers"  and  the  enraged  citizens  from 
attacking  us  on  the  road.  Last  summer  was  noth- 
ing at  all  to  this  one  in  Pennsylvania.  Although 
I  did  not  have  the  pleasure  of  going  into 
Yankeeland  with  them,  I  was  following  them 
in  the  rear  and  could  see  the  havoc  they  did. 
The  squad  that  I  was  in,  the  first  night  we 
got  into  Pennsylvania,  killed  a  hog  near  a  man's  house 
and  then  sent  two  men  to  him  to  borrow  cooking  uten- 
sils to  cook  it  in,  most  of  them  would  make  the  expres- 
sion, "I  reckon  you  got  your  rations  out  of  the  field." 

The  Fourth  of  July  we  got  in  eight  miles  of  the  bat- 
tlefield, all  that  day  the  citizens  tried  their  best  to  pre- 
vent our  going  any  farther.  Told  us  we  were  certainly 
gone  chickens  if  we  went  any  farther,  that  the  Yan- 
kees were  on  picket  some  little  distance  off  in  large 
force.  We  didn't  put  any  confidence  in  their  chat  but 
kept  on.  The  last  day  of  the  three  days'  big  fight,  we 
got  within  a  few  miles  of  the  battlefield,  when  we  met 


88  FORG£T-M£-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

General  Imboden's  Cavalry,  the  advance  guard  of  our 
whole  wagon  train,  who  turned  us  back  by  orders  from 
General  Lee,  ordering  us  at  the  same  time  to  keep  with 
the  train,  which  did  not  stop  until  we  arrived  at  this 
place,  we  (the  wagon  train)  intended  to  ford  the  river 
here  and  again  set  foot  on  Virginia  soil,  but  it  has 
rained  so  much  we  have  been  waiting  four  days  for 
the  river  to  fall  low  enough  to  ford  it.  The  Yankees 
attacked  us  here  day  before  yesterday  with  the  inten- 
tion of  capturing  us,  but  they  were  driven  off.  I  can't 
form  the  most  distant  idea  what  the  army  is  going 
to  do,  whether  they  intend  to  stay  this  side  of  the  river 
or  go  back  into  Virginia.  There  is  not  a  day  passes 
but  you  hear  of  fighting  going  on.  You  don't  feel 
right  unless  you  hear  cannonading  going  on.  The 
stillness  doesn't  seem  natural.  There  are  five  or  six 
thousand  Yankees  here  waiting  for  the  river  to  fall 
to  cross. 

When  I  have  more  time  I  will  write  again.  Captain 
Thompson  was  wounded  slightly  and  has  crossed  the 
river,  I  don't  know  with  what  intention.  Buck  Nolly 
was  killed  in  our  company. 

Write  to  me  as  soon  as  you  get  this  and  let  me 
hear  from  you  all,  direct  to  Richmond  and  I  will  get 
it.     This  letter  is  No.  3. 

Walter. 

Camp  Near  Orange  C.  H.,  August  2nd,  1863. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  received  your  letter  day  before  yesterday,  just  as 
we  received  orders  to  march.     We  marched  about  fif- 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE  AND   WAITER.  89 

teen  miles  yesterday  through  the  hottest  sun  that  I 
ever  felt.  The  men  were  constantly  dropping  out 
from  overheat,  and  one  or  two  died  from  the  effects. 
We  are  in  camp  to-day,  but  have  orders  to  hold  our- 
selves in  readiness  to  move  at  a  moment's  notice.  The 
report  is  the  Yankees  are  advancing  on  Culpepper.  I 
guess  we  will  leave  here  tonight  or  before  day  in  the 
morning.  This  army  is  seeing  a  very  hard  time  at 
present.  Nothing  to  eat  but  beef  and  flour  and  the 
hardest  marching  that  this  army  has  ever  done.  At 
the  time  we  crossed  the  mountains  at  Fort  Royal,  we 
marched  from  4  o'clock  one  morning  until  day  break 
next  morning.  We  were  drawn  up  in  line  of  battle 
twice  during  the  time,  once  we  had  a  very  sharp  fight 
between  our  sharpshooters  and  the  Yankees.  Our 
Brigade  was  in  line  on  an  edge  of  a  mountain  over- 
looking the  whole  scene.  I  don't  think  it  will  be  long 
before  we  shall  have  a  fight,  from  our  present  move- 
ments. I  thought  I  told  you  in  the  letter  I  wrote  from 
near  Hargerstown,  while  in  line,  that  I  was  with  the 
Regiment.  You  must  have  missed  getting  that  letter. 
This  makes  the  fifth  I  have  written  since  I  left  home. 
When  I  got  with  the  regiment  everything  had  so  much 
changed  at  headquarters,  new  men  detailed,  and  my 
not  knowing  any  of  them,  I  concluded  to  go  back  with 
the  company.  I  have  been  doing  duty  with  the  Com- 
pany ever  since  I  got  back  and  I  believe  I  feel  better 
satisfied.  Jim  Gay  got  back  to  the  regiment  this  morn- 
ing, left  Wilson  last  Wednesday.  He  has  told  us  all 
about  the  Yankee  raid. 


90  FORGST-MK-NOTS  OF  THE)   CIVIL   WAR. 

I  have  been  suffering  some  little  from  pain  in  the 
feet,  caused  by  hard  marching.  The  doctor  told  me 
yesterday  that  I  might  put  my  things  in  the  ambu- 
lance. At  night  when  I  went  after  them,  some  one 
had  stolen  my  knapsack  with  all  my  clothes,  except 
what  I  have  on,  and  my  shawl.  I'll  try  and  make  out 
with  what  I  have  until  cold  weather  comes  on.  You 
may  send  me  two  pair  cotton  and  two  pair  woolen 
socks  the  first  opportunity  you  have.  That  will  be 
the  first  thing  that  I  will  need.  Dossey  came  over  to 
see  me  this  morning  and  read  a  letter  to  me  that  he 
got  from  Cousin  Claudia  yesterday. 

There  is  some  little  talk  sometimes  of  our  Brigade 
being  ordered  to  North  Carolina.  I  wish  to  gracious  we 
could  be.  I'll  bet  the  Yankees  wouldn't  cut  up  there 
like  they  have  been.  To-day  is  Sunday  and  one  of 
the  hottest  that  I  ever  felt.  We  are  in  a  piece  of  woods 
where  there  isn't  one  breath  of  air  stirring.  If  we 
do  have  to  march  to-day,  half  of  the  men  will  give 
out  from  overheat.  I  would  much  rather  march  two 
nights  than  one  day.  You  may  send  me  that  home- 
spun shirt  in  my  trunk,  at  the  same  time  you  do  the 
socks — that  checked  one.  I  hope  the  authorities  will 
send  some  troops  home  to  prevent  the  Yankees 
from  making  a  raid  through  there.  Write  whenever 
there  is  anything  to  tell  me  about  home  and  you  all. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 


letters  from  george  and  walter.  91 

Camp  on  Rapidan  River,  Six  Miles 
North  oe  Rapidan  Station,  Sept.  22,  1863. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  had  intended  to  write  you  the  very  day  we  left 
Orange  Court  House,  but  the  movement  prevented 
me.  We  left  there  yesterday  week,  marched  towards 
Rapidan,  camped  near  the  river  for  two  days,  hearing 
the  cannonading  between  our  forces  and  the  Yankees 
the  whole  time,  neither  crossing  in  any  force.  Our 
cavalry  made  a  dash  across  the  river,  taking  some 
thirty  prisoners.  The  Second  North  Carolina  Cavalry 
are  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  now  and  is  thought 
to  be  cut  off.  We  are  now  eighteen  miles  from  Orange 
Court  House  on  the  Rapidan  river.  I  can't 
learn  the  name  of  the  ford.  Our  division 
is  in  line  of  battle,  about  one  mile  from  the 
river.  We  have  thrown  up  some  breastworks 
and  we  have  an  excellent  position.  All  I 
hope  is  that  the  Yankees  may  come  across,  for  I 
feel  confident  we  can  whip  them  worse  than  they 
have  ever  been  yet.  A  deserter  who  came  across  says 
they  have  only  two  corps  and  that  they  are  most  con- 
scripts. He  says  they  are  deserting  by  the  hundreds. 
Last  evening  our  division  moved  in  a  piece  of  woods 
some  three  hundred  yards  in  rear  of  our  breastworks. 
I  suppose  it  was  done  that  the  men  might  keep  more 
comfortable.  Night  before  last  we  had  a  pretty  smart 
frost  and  the  wind  blew  like  winter.  I  spent  two  thirds 
of  the  night  by  the  fire  to  keep  warm.  My  pair  of 
blankets  got  left  in  one  of  the  wagons. 

If  you  do  not  have  any  use  for  that  map  of  Vir- 


92  forge;t-m£-nots  of  the  civil  war. 

ginia,  which  you  bought  last  winter,  please  loan  it  to 
me ;  send  it  by  Thompson.  I  will  take  good  care  of  it 
and  return  it. 

In  times  like  this,  one  blanket  is  as  much  as  any  man 
wants  hung  to  him,  and  nine  times  out  of  ten  he  throws 
that  one  away  during  the  fight.  As  soon  as  we  go 
into  camp  again  I  shall  have  plenty  of  bedding.  When 
Dr.  Thompson  comes  back,  I  wish  you  would  send  my 
overcoat.  I  think  I  shall  need  it  by  then,  also  one  pair 
of  woolen  socks.  The  flannel  drawers  you  may  keep 
until  we  go  into  camp.  I  have  no  way  of  carrying 
them.  I  never  intend  to  carry  another  knapsack  on 
my  back,  as  long  as  I  stay  in  the  service.  John  Val- 
entine brought  the  things  you  sent  by  him.  The  shirt 
fits  exactly.  You  need  not  trouble  about  making  the 
other  in  any  hurry.  I  shall  not  need  it  until  we  go 
in  camp. 

Henry  Warren  came  to  us  yesterday  morning.  The 
bag  of  potatoes  which  he  brought  could  not  have  come 
in  a  better  time.  It  was  a  rich  treat,  I  assure  you. 
We  have  been  lying  in  line  of  battle  two  or  three  days, 
living  on  half  cooked  rations  sent  from  the  wagon 
yard,  and  to  get  a  bag  of  sweet  potatoes  was  a  perfect 
Godsend.  We  just  set  around  the  fire  and  roasted 
them  last  night  and  talked  of  the  good  things  at  home 
for  a  late  hour.  Tom  Stith,  Tom  Atkinson,  Peter 
Christman  and  myself  compose  our  mess  and  whatever 
either  gets,  he  shares  it  with  the  rest.  Tom  Stith 
has  a  trunk  of  things  at  Orange  Court  House, 
that  Henry  had  to  leave,  as  he  had  to  take 
it     afoot     to     where     he     found      us;      his      boy 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE  AND   WALTER.  93 

brought  my  potatoes.  Tell  sister  that  I  will 
write  to  her  soon.'  I  should  have  written  this 
time,  but  couldn't  get  the  paper.  It  took  me  half  an 
hour  to  borrow  this  half  sheet.  You  need  not  look 
for  me  home  on  a  furlough  for  a  long  time  yet ;  there 
are  men  in  the  camp  that  haven't  been  home  since  we 
came  to  Virginia.  You  know  I  have  been  home  twice. 
It  will  be  a  long  time  before  my  time  comes  around. 
The  next  furlough,  I  expect,  will  be  a  wounded  or 
sick  one. 

Give  my  love  to  all  the  family  and  believe  me  as 
ever, 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 

Camp  Near  Morton's  Ford, 

On  Rapidan  River.,  October  5th,  1863. 

My  Dear  Mother: 

I  received  your  letter  of  the  23rd  yesterday  while 
on  picket  duty  and  it  seems  to  me  from  the  way  in 
which  you  write  that  you  did  not  receive  my  last  letter. 
I  don't  think  that  it  has  been  two  weeks  since  I  wrote 
you;  'twas  soon  after  Harry  Warren  got  back.  We 
are  at  the  same  camp  we  were  when  Henry  came.  Our 
Brigade  does  picket  on  the  river  at  Morton's  Ford. 
We  (that  is,  our  Regiment)  have  to  go  on  every  fourth 
night.  Night  before  last  was  a  terrible  night,  cold 
and  rainy,  and  the  wind  was  pretty  cutting.  Our  line 
is  on  the  river  bank,  in  a  cornfield.  The  Yankees  are 
on  the  other  side,  some  four  hundred  yards  distance. 
We  have  no  communication  with  them,  it  being  against 


94  £ORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE  CIVIL   WAR. 

General  Ramseur's  orders.  Battle's  Brigade  (Ala- 
bama troops)  talk  and  exchange  papers  with  them 
every  day.  They  join  our  line  above  the  ford.  When 
we  first  went  on  picket  at  the  river  we  could  hear  the 
Yankees'  drums  by  the  hundred.  They  stopped  all 
at  once  and  we  did  not  hear  more  than  two  or  three 
for  a  whole  week.  Yesterday  morning  they  opened 
with  their  drums  again  and  from  the  number  it  would 
seem  that  they  have  a  large  army  across  the  river.  I 
think  they  trjed  to  make  us  believe  they  had  left,  but 
they  can't  fool  General  Lee.  We  have  had  orders 
for  a  week  or  more  to  keep  two  days'  rations  cooked 
and  be  ready  to  move  at  a  moment's  notice.  I  don't 
think  that  we  shall  remain  much  longer  at  this  camp. 

Some  half-dozen  cannons  were  heard  up  the  river 
yesterday.  I  suppose  they  were  signal  guns.  A  pretty 
good  sign  of  a  movement.  I  hope  we  will  soon  do 
all  the  fighting  that  we  expect  to  do  this  winter,  and 
let  us  go  into  winter  quarters.  The  orderly  has  just 
come  around  with  orders  to  be  in  readiness  to  move, 
as  the  Yankees  are  advancing  and  we  may  probably 
leave  this  evening.  All  the  preparation  that  I  have 
to  make  is  to  look  up  our  day's  rations  of  bread.  As 
soon  as  we  go  into  camp  to  stay  any  length  of  time, 
I  shall  be  glad  to  get  my  flannel  drawers.  I  will  let 
you  know.  I  hope  Dr.  Thompson  will  be  well  enough 
to  come  when  his  furlough  is  out,  and  bring  my  over- 
coat, also  a  pair  of  socks,  gloves  (if  you  can  find  them) 
and  a  little  box  of  lip  salve.  Tom  Stith  was  waiting 
about  a  week  before  he  got  his  things,  which  Henry 
Warren  brought.     He  had  to  leave  them  at  Orange 


letters  Erom  george  and  waiter.  95 

Court  House,  as  he  had  to  foot  it  about 
eighteen  miles.  Cbl.  Grimes  got  back  a  few 
days  ago  from  North  Carolina.  He  was  mar- 
ried while  home  and  he  is  now  a  candidate 
for  congress,  and  I  think  he  will  probably  be 
elected.  I  would  like  very  much  to  be  at  home  with 
you  to  eat  some  of  that  nice  fruit  which  you  have. 
Peaches  here  in  camp  sell  for  $2.00  per  dozen,  so  we 
can't  afford  to  eat  as  many  as  we  want  at  that  price, 
or  it  would  take  a  month's  wages  to  pay  for  the  treat. 
Blake  said  for  me  to  tell  you  to  please  tell  Mr.  Rhodes 
to  send  him  thirty  dollars  by  Thompson,  if  this  reaches 
you  in  time;  if  not,  send  it  by  mail.  Tom  Stith  says 
to  tell  some  of  his  folks  not  to  send  him  any  blanket 
as  yet.    He  will  let  them  know. 

I  am  enjoying  excellent  health  at  present.  Some- 
times I  am  troubled  with  diarrhoea,  but  I  generally 
stop  it  by  quit  eating  beef  for  a  few  days.  Next 
time  you  write  to  Pussy,  give  her  my  best  love  and 
tell  her  I  would  like  so  much  to  see  her.  Give  my 
love  to  all  the  family,  and  believe  me,  your  sincere 
and  devoted  son, 

Walter. 

Much  obliged  for  the  paper  and  envelopes. 

On  March  Near  Rappahannock  Sta- 
tion, Va.,  October  18,   1863. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  received  your  very  welcome  letter  and  did  intend 
answering  it  last  evening,  but  we  were  ordered  to 
move,  which  prevented  me  from  doing  so.     We  left 


96  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

Rapidan  about  the  7th  inst,  and  have  been  on  the 
march  ever  since,  and  I  believe  it  has  been  the  hardest 
for  the  length  of  time  that  we  have  ever  had.  It  was 
what  might  be  termed  a  "flank  movement"  in  every 
sense  of  the  word.  We  marched  through  woods,  fields 
and  across  branches,  creeks  and  rivers  as  we  came  to 
them,  only  a  few  hours  behind  the  Yankees  all  the 
time.  Last  Thursday  we  were  drawn  up  in  line  of 
battle  before  day  and  our  Division,  with  our  sharp- 
shooters in  front,  drove  the  Yankees  through  the 
woods  and  fields  for  two  or  three  miles.  Our  sharp- 
shooters killed  and  wounded  a  great  many.  Our  Brig- 
ade took  thirty  or  forty  prisoners.  A  day  or  two  be- 
fore that  we  surprised  a  corps  of  Yankees  in  camp, 
hurrying  them  off  rather  unceremoniously.  We  all 
got  our  haversacks  filled  with  crackers,  which  we  very 
much  needed,  though  we  haven't  suffered  for  anything 
to  eat  on  the  march.  Gen.  Ramsieur  is  very  attentive 
to  his  men  in  that  respect.  Day  before  yesterday  we 
were  in  four  miles  of  Manassas.  I  did  wish  that  we 
might  go  that  far.  I  wanted  to  see  the  old  place  so 
much. 

The  rumor  in  camp  is  that  Gen.  Lee  has  accom- 
plished everything  he  intended,  that  is,  to  drive  the 
Yankees  back  and  tear  up  this  railroad,  which  we  are 
doing  to  perfection ;  but  for  the  grading  and  bent  iron 
you  would  not  know  that  there  ever  was  a  railroad 
along  here.  We  cut  down  the  telegraph  wire  also, 
and  carried  that  along  with  us.  We  stopped  on  the 
march  to-day,  about  10  o'clock,  after  marching  about 
eight  miles.     What  it  is  for,  I  can't  tell.     I  suppose 


letters  From  george  and  w  alter.  97 

something  is  the  matter  with  the  road  ahead,  or  prob- 
ably the  bridge  across  the  Rappahannock  needs  repair- 
ing. It  is  now  4  o'clock.  I  expect  we  shall  move 
nearer  the  river  to  camp,  however  it  does  not  make 
much  difference  where  we  stop,  as  we  have  rations  up 
till  tomorrow  evening.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen 
us  cooking  up  three  days'  rations  the  other  night,  be- 
fore attacking  the  Yankees  the  next  day.  We  have 
flour  and  beef  to  cook  and  only  about  half  the  night 
to  cook  them  in,  without  cooking  utensils.  We  made 
up  our  dough  on  our  gun  cloths  and  cooked  it  on  bar- 
rel staves  and  heads.  You  would  be  surprised  to  see 
how  nice  bread  can  be  cooked  on  a  ram  rod.  I  think 
it  is  the  sweetest  bread  that  I  ever  ate.  I  think  there 
must  be  something  in  the  appetite  also.  Our  beef  we 
broiled  on  griddle  irons  made  of  telegraph  wire.  I 
think  I  was  the  first  in  our  regiment  to  make  one ;  since 
then  nearly  every  man  has  one  along  with  him.  Col. 
Grimes  detailed  a  blacksmith  and  sent  him  to  me  to 
get  mine  to  make  him  one  like  it.  He  said  it  was  the 
most  useful  thing  he  had  seen.  We  cook  bread  on 
them  also.  Speaking  of  Col.  Grimes,  he  just  received 
a  furlough  to-day,  and  will  leave  for  North  Carolina 
in  a  few  days.  Dr.  Thompson  has  not  arrived  yet, 
nor  have  we  heard  from  him.  I  think  the  fall  cam- 
paign is  about  over  and  I  hope  we  will  go  into  winter 
quarters  somewhere  on  the  railroad.  I  do  want  some 
sweet  potatoes  so  much.  Give  my  love  to  all  the 
family,  and  believe  me  as  ever, 

Your  devoted  son, 

Walter. 


98  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OE  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

P.  S.  I  am  truly  glad  that  Dr.  Harrell  has  got  a 
position  as  surgeon.  I  hope  he  will  be  pleasantly  sit- 
uated. Please  look  in  the  watch  pocket  of  my  black 
satin  vest,  get  my  lip  salve  box,  fill  it  with  salve  and 
send  it  in  your  next  letter.  This  mountain  wind  keeps 
my  lips  split  all  to  pieces.  Tell  Mr.  Rhodes,  Blake  says 
he  got  the  $30.00  safely;  much  obliged  to  him.  I 
believe  I  will  send  you  a  Yankee  letter  that  I  picked 
up  the  other  day  in  the  woods  while  we  were  pursuing 
them.  I  don't  think  peace  is  so  near  at  hand  as  he 
does. 

Much  obliged  for  this  envelope  and  paper,  you  got 
an  answer  sooner  than  you  otherwise  would,  there  is 
no  suttler  along  with  us  and  none  of  the  boys  carry 
such  things  with  them,  they  cost  so  much,  and  the 
first  rain  would  ruin  them. 

Camp  Near  Morton's  Ford,  Va., 

November  11th,  1863. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

We  are  once  more  in  our  same  camp  on  the  Rapidan, 
which  we  left  just  a  month  ago.  We  had  just  begun 
to  be  comfortable  in  our  winter  quarters  on  the  Rap- 
pahannock when  the  Yankees  run  us  out.  Last  Sat- 
urday, about  ten  o'clock,  the  Yankees  attacked  our 
picket  line  on  the  river,  composed  of  the  Second  and 
Thirtieth  N.  C.  Regiments  of  our  Brigade,  driving 
them  back,  taking  a  great  many  of  them  prisoners. 
Col.  Cox,  of  the  Second,  was  badly  wounded  and 
afterwards  died.     The  attack  was  a  perfect  surprise. 


LETTERS   EROM   GEORGE  AND  WALTER.  99 

We  had  just  drawn  a  large  supply  of  winter  cloth- 
ing of  every  kind,  and  the  men  were  just  trying  them 
on  when  we  were  ordered  to  fall  in,  which  we  did  in 
double  quick  time,  making  for  the  river  line  of  battle 
with  our  sharpshooters  in  front.  'Twas  not  long  be- 
fore we  came  on  their  skirmishers  and  a  brisk  fire 
commenced,  which  lasted  until  dark.  Our  two  lines  of 
battle  laid  within  speaking  distance  until  12  o'clock  that 
night,  when  we  were  very  quietly  withdrawn,  half 
hour  afterwards  our  sharpshooters  followed  and  we 
took  up  our  line  of  march  till  sun  rise,  when  we  were 
drawn  up  in  line  of  battle,  we  stayed  until  two  or  three 
o'clock.  The  Yankees  not  coming  on  us,  we  started 
on  the  march  again  and  never  stopped  till  we  crossed 
the  Rapidan.  We  ate  our  breakfast  Saturday  morning 
in  our  winter  quarters  and  did  not  draw  a  single 
mouthful  to  eat,  or  have  any  rest  except  when  we  were 
in  line  of  battle  (and  then  we  were  hard  at  work 
throwing  up  breastworks),  until  Monday  night,  ten 
o'clock.  We  waded  the  Rapidan  about  9  o'clock  the 
same  night.  I  think  it  was  the  hardest  time  we  have 
ever  had,  nothing  to  eat,  accompanied  with  the  hard- 
est marching  we  ever  did.  All  of  our  things 
were  left  in  our  winter  quarters,  expecting  to  go 
back  there,  but  we  did  not,  so  we  lost  a  good  many 
things  which  we  left  behind.  I  happened  to  take  my 
shawl  and  oil  cloth  along  with  me,  which  I  saved.  I 
lost  my  two  blankets,  a  pair  of  cotton  drawers,  pair  of 
socks,  which  I  had  just  drawn  (I  did  not  draw  any- 
thing else  of  the  new  clothing,  which  I  am  glad  of, 
for  I  should  have  lost  them).    I  also  lost  my  knapsack, 


100  £ORG£T-ME-NOTS  OF   TH£   CIVIL   WAR. 

tin  plate,  tin  cup,  etc.  I  saved  my  overcoat,  with  all 
the  things  you  sent  by  Condon.  That  scrape  has 
taught  me  a  lesson.  I'll  bet  I  never  leave  anything  else 
of  mine  behind.  I  don't  care  where  we  are  ordered  to. 
Try  and  get  Tom  Stith  to  put  the  following  things 
in  with  his  own  baggage :  That  worsted  shirt,  flannel 
shirt,  flannel,  drawers,  two  pair  socks,  please  send  me 
a  comb,  coarse  one,  also  a  towel.  Tom  Stith  will  be 
judge  of  what  he  can  bring  besides  those  things.  Tell 
him  we  are  at  the  same  camp  that  Henry  Warren  came 
to  us  at.  If  I  have  time  I  will  write  to  him  tomorrow. 
We  have  just  as  much  to  do  now  as  we  can  attend  to. 
We  are  on  picket  every  third  night  (Nov.  12).  We 
moved  camp  this  morning  about  half  mile  nearer  our 
picket  line.  Cannonading  is  occasionally  heard  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river.  I  don't  know  what  we  will 
be  doing,  or  where  we  will  be  tomorrow  this  time.  I 
am  perfectly  willing  for  the  Yankees  to  cross  here, 
for  I  think  we  will  whip  them  worse  than  we  ever  did 
at  Fredricksburg.  I  shall  be  on  picket  tonight.  I've 
got  to  go  to  work  and  get  something  to  eat  to  carry 
with  me.     Give  my  love  to  all.     As  ever, 

Your  sincere  and  devoted  son, 

Walter. 

Camp  Near  Morton's  Ford,  Vav 

December  3rd,  1863. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  know  you  are  anxious  to  hear  from  me,  so  I 
thought  I  would  write,  if  not  but  a  few  lines,  to  let 
you  hear  from  me  and  to  know  that  I  was  well  and 


LETTERS  FROM  GEORGE)  AND  WAI/fE)R.       101 

safe.  We  left  this  place  to-day  was  one  week  ago. 
That  night  at  3  o'clock  we  left  and  went  down  the 
river  towards  Germania  Ford,  where  the  Yankees 
have  crossed  in  heavy  „force.  We  got  there  late  in 
the  evening,  and  had  some  very  sharp  skirmishes  with 
them  before  night.  We  were  in  line  of  battle  all 
night;  just  before  day  we  fell  back  a  short  distance 
and  established  our  line  of  battle  and  commenced 
throwing  up  our  breastworks  in  the  coldest  kind  of 
a  rain.  We  were  in  an  old  field  on  top  of  a  hill,  where 
the  wind  came  with  all  its  fury.  The  smoke  from  our 
fires  was  almost  enough  to  kill  a  man.  We  were  in 
that  condition,  expecting  an  attack  by  the  Yankees 
day  or  night.  We  have  to  keep  all  of  our  things  on  all 
the  time  and  one-half  of  the  men  up  all  night,  in  case 
of  an  attack.  Yesterday  morning  we  commenced  mov- 
ing about  2  o'clock,  and  at  daylight  we  discovered  that 
the  Yankees  had  retreated  across  the  river.  Our 
Brigade  was  ordered  to  the  front  and  we  commenced 
the  pursuit.  We  pretty  soon  commenced  taking  a  few 
stragglers  and  by  ten  o'clock  we  have  taken  (from 
the  looks  of  them  as  passed  them  on  the  road  this 
morning)  three  or  four  hundred.  They  were  the  poor- 
est Yankees  I  ever  saw.  They  did  not  have  one  mouth- 
ful to  eat  and  said  they  had  not  had  any  in  four  days. 
They  stated  as  an  excuse  that  our  cavalry  had  cap- 
tured their  wagons.  Several  of  them  offered  me  $2.00 
a  piece  for  crackers,  but  I  told  them  we  were  rationed 
up  for  two  days  and  I  could  eat  everything  in  my  hav- 
ersack in  one,  so  I  could  not  spare  them.  I  told  them 
that  they  would  draw  something  to  eat  pretty  soon. 


102  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

One  of  them  gave  me  his  knapsack  and  everything  in 
it  and  then  very  politely  asked  me  if  I  could  spare 
him  a  cracker.  I  could  not  refuse  him,  for  the  things 
that  he  gave  me  unsolicited  were  very  valuable.  A 
pair  of  new  shoes  and  a  Yankee  tent  are  things  that 
money  will  not  buy.  I  would  not  take  $25.00  for  my 
tent  which  he  gave  me.  They  are  large  enough  for 
two,  and  so  light  that  you  can  roll  them  in  your  knap- 
sack and  not  feel  the  weight  at  all.  I  could  have  got- 
ten more  little  Yankee  camp  conveniences  than  I  could 
carry,  but  we  were  then  in  line  of  battle,  charging 
through  the  woods  and  I  did  not  wish  to  bungle  my- 
self up  too  much.  I  do  not  know  how  long  we  shall 
stay  here,  but  it's  my  opinion,  not  long.  I  hope  it 
will  be  long  enough  for  us  to  get  rested  and  recruited 
again  before  we  set  out  for  another  march.  Tom  Stith 
brought  all  the  things  which  you  sent  by  him,  in- 
cluding the  letters.  I  am  too  tired  and  worn  out  to 
write  an  interesting  letter.  I  merely  wrote  to  set  your 
mind  at  ease.  As  soon  as  I  can  cook  something  I  shall 
try  and  go  to  sleep.  I  haven't  slept  more  than  an  hour 
at  any  time  for  nearly  a  week.  My  love  to  all.  Write 
soon  to  your 

Sincere  and  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 

Camp  in  Winter  Quarters,  Near  Orange 
Court  House,  January  10,  1864. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  received  your  letter  by  mail,  also  the  one  you  sent 
by  Mixson.     We  were  on  picket  at  the  time.     Mixson 


I^TTERS   FROM   GEORGE  AND   WAI/T£R.  103 

got  here  to-day  (Sunday)  week.  We  got  back  from 
picket  last  night,  having  spent  one  week  on  the  banks 
of  the  Rapidan.  We  had  two  snows  during  the  time, 
each  one  two  or  three  inches  deep.  Though  we  did  not 
suffer  as  one  would  suppose,  who  does  not  know  how 
to  fix  up.  My  little  Yankee  tent  came  into  requisition, 
so  did  my  visor;  you  can't  imagine  the  comfort  there 
is  in  it  while  exposed  to  cold  north  winds.  I  thought 
I  had  written  to  you  how  I  liked  it.  I  used  to  think 
I  wouldn't  wear  one,  now  I  wouldn't  be  without  it  for 
anything.  You  say  you  wish  I  was  in  the  office  again. 
I  do  not.  Though  I  was  never  allowanced  while  there 
for  something  to  eat,  there  were  other  things  equally 
as  disagreeable.  I  get  enough  to  eat  now,  but  none 
to  waste  and  I  feel  much  better  satisfied.  Our  meat 
has  been  cut  down  to  a  quarter  of  a  pound  and  they 
give  us  sugar,  coffee,  rice  and  sometimes  dried  fruit. 
We  eat  up  everything  they  give  us  and  feel  hungry  all 
the  time.  When  they  only  give  us  a  quarter  of  a 
pound  of  meat  and  a  tin  cupful  of  flour,  it  is  not 
enough  for  a  hearty  man,  but  when  they  give  us  rice, 
peas,  etc.,  we  can  make  out  very  well.  Peter  Christ- 
man  got  a  letter  from  his  father  yesterday,  saying 
he  was  going  to  start  with  a  load  of  boxes  to-day 
(Sunday)  week.  I  suppose  he  will  come  in  May  War- 
ren's place.  I  need  not  tell  you  what  to  send  me,  for 
I  know  you  will  be  certain  to  send  me  as  much  as  I 
could  ask  for.  I  don't  wish  for  you  to  send  me  any- 
thing that  is  scarce  or  high  priced.  Let  it  be  some- 
thing that  you  have  a  plenty  of,  so  that  you  will  not 
miss  it.    The  things  that  you  sent  by  Mixson  came  in 


104  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

a  very  good  time.  He  sent  me  some  meat  and  pota- 
toes while  on  picket.  You  can  send  me  a  little  of  that 
nice  meal,  if  you  have  it  to  spare.  You  need  not  send 
any  sage,  just  send  a  few  pods  of  red  peppers  to  boil 
with  beef  once  in  a  while,  when  we  draw  it.  I  don't 
suppose  we  shall  draw  much  more  beef  until  next 
Spring.  Please  don't  forget  to  send  a  small  case  knife, 
a  fig  stem  for  pipe,  the  size  of  your  middle  ringer, 
about  six  inches  long. 

I  am  very  well  supplied  with  winter  clothing  of 
every  kind  at  present.  Just  drawn  a  splendid  pair  of 
English  shoes.  The  trip  down  the  river  cut  my 
others  all  to  pieces.  I  did  want  to  send  a  pair  of  Eng- 
lish shoes  to  brother,  but  it  seems  that  I  can't  get  ahead 
so  that  I  can  do  so.  If  we  didn't  have  any  picket  duty 
to  do  this  winter,  we  should  be  just  as  comfortable  as 
I  could  wish.  But  we  have  to  go  eight  miles  off  every 
fifth  week  and  spend  the  time  out  doors,  don't  make 
any  difference  what  kind  of  weather  it  is.  I  don't 
suppose  we  shall  have  to  go  more  than  two  or  three 
times,  though  before  we  shall  start  on  our  next 
Spring's  campaign,  wherever  that  may  be.  Tell  Bob  to 
write  whenever  you  do  and  let  me  know  how  he  is 
getting  along  himself.  Give  my  love  to  all  the  family, 
also  to  Puss  whenever  you  write  to  her.  Write  as  soon 
as  is  convenient  and  believe  me,  as  ever, 

Your  sincere  and  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 


letters  from  george  and  wai/ter.  105 

Camp  Fourth  North  Carolina  Reg't., 
Near  Orange  Court  House,  Jan.  26,  1864. 
My  Dear  Folks: 

Your  letter  of  the  16th  inst.  received  a  few  days 
ago.  Mr.  Christman  and  the  boxes  got  here  Sunday 
night.  Everything  came  safely,  with  the  exception 
of  Tom  Stith's  box,  that  got  stolen  passing  through 
Richmond ;  the  practiced  thieves  around  Richmond  can 
steal  anything. 

You  can't  tell  how  I  prize  that  middling  of  meat. 
It  came  in  the  very  nick  of  time.  I  had  just  finished 
the  ham  and  sausages  which  you  sent  by  Nixson.  The 
things  which  you  have  sent  me  will  last  me  several 
weeks;  with  what  I  draw  will  give  me  just  as  much 
as  I  want  by  mixing  rations.  You  don't  know  how 
selfish  men  become  by  soldiering  two  or  three  years. 
Two  years  ago  when  one  received  a  box  from  home 
he  was  expected  to  ask  the  whole  company  up  and  tell 
them  to  help  themselves,  but  that  custom  has  played 
out.  Now  when  a  fellow  buys  anything  or  has  any- 
thing sent  him  from  home,  the  rest  of  the  company 
don't  expect  to  be  asked  to  help  themselves.  Whoever 
one  is  messing  with  he  is  all  that  expects  to  share  it 
with  him;  the  whole  company  is  messed  off  in  pairs 
to  suit  themselves.  I  have  been  messing  with  Lang 
Mixson  since  we  left  Morton's  Ford.  He  is  the  best 
messmate  I  have  ever  had.  I  will  never  mess  with 
more  than  one  at  a  time  again.  When  two  are  together 
it  enables  them  to  cook  and  draw  the  rations  for  each 
other,  when  either  is  on  duty.  Mr.  Winstead,  our 
orderly,  will  leave  in  the  morning  for  home.     I  shall 


106  FORGET- MEJ-NOTS   OE  THE   CIVIL  WAR. 

send  this  by  Wm.  Barnes,  who  will  leave  with  Mr. 
Christman.     Give  my  love  to  all. 

Yours, 

Walter. 

Camp  Near  Orange  Court  House,  Va., 
February  8,  1864. 
Dear  Mother: 

I  received  your  letter  last  week  and  I  had  just  com- 
menced to  answer  it  when  I  heard  commotion  at  Mor- 
ton's Ford.  Our  Brigade  was  on  picket  last  week,  one 
week  sooner  than  our  time,  in  consequence  of  Gen. 
Battle's  and  Johnston's  Brigades  having  gone  some- 
where, I  suppose  to  North  Carolina.  I  was  on  camp 
guard  at  the  time  and  was  left  for  camp  duty.  Our 
Brigade  had  fallen  in  to  start  back  to  camp  when  our 
cannon  on  picket  fired  into  the  Yankees  then  graping. 
Before  the  boys  could  get  to  the  breastworks,  the  Yan- 
kees had  driven  the  picket  line  into  them.  They  kept  up 
a  pretty  sharp  skirmish  for  three  or  four  hours.  The 
sharpshooters  got  so  near  to  each  other  that  they  run 
and  shot  each  other  around  a  house,  one  Yankee  was 
killed  on  the  piazza  of  the  house.  There  was  only 
one  man  in  our  Brigade  that  was  hurt,  his  name  was 
W.  A.  Driver,  belonging  to  our  company.  He  was 
wounded  on  the  skirmish  line.  The  Yankees  lost  some 
ten  or  fifteen.  We  killed  one  of  their  Generals,  but 
they  succeeded  in  getting  him  across  the  river.  That 
night  our  line  of  pickets  were  posted  in  their  same 
old  posts.  We  heard  here  in  camp  that  the  Yankees 
were  about  to  take  our  breastworks. 


letters  from  gsorge;  and  walter.  107 

Next  morning,  Sunday,  Peter  Christman  and  my- 
self rolled  up  our  things  and  by  daylight  were  on  our 
way  to  the  breastworks.  When  we  got  there  our  army 
was  lying  in  our  breastworks  and  the  Yankees  were 
scattered  all  over  the  fields  about  a  half-mile  the  other 
side  of  the  river.  All  their  cannons  were  in  position 
and  remained  so  during  the  day.  There  were  two  lines 
of  artillery  just  the  right  distance  from  each  other  to 
do  the  best  execution,  frowning  at  each  other  the  whole 
day,  neither  willing  or  inclined  to  commence  the  fight 
across  the  river. 

Last  night  about  ten  o'clock,  their  camp  fires  all 
died  out  and  this  morning  the  Yankees  were  all  gone, 
except  their  line  of  pickets. 

We  pretty  soon  started  back  to  camp  and  got  here 
an  hour  ago,  and  I  am  in  hopes  they  will  not  trouble 
us  any  more  this  winter.  The  mountains  in  Yankee- 
dom  were  covered  with  snow  this  morning.  I  am  in 
hopes  we  will  have  some  shortly  to  put  an  end  to  all 
military  operations  for  this  winter.  I  will  write  again 
in  a  day  or  two.  I  am  as  tired  as  a  horse  at  present, 
a  tramp  of  ten  miles  through  the  mud  ankle  deep  is 
enough  to  tire  a  mule.     Give  love  to  all. 

As  ever,  your  devoted  son, 

Walter. 

Camp,  Fourth  N.  C,  Near  Orange  Court  House, 

February,  1864. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  received  your  letter  dated  February  21st,  Friday, 
and  I  should  have  answered  it  yesterday,  but  for  the 


108  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

want  of  time.  Our  Brigade  has  about  one  mile  of 
plank  road  to  ditch  and  grade  and  there  is  a  very 
heavy  detail  from  the  Regiment  every  day.  The  whole 
regiment  is  on  duty  every  day  and  will  be  for  eight 
or  ten  days  more.  Those  that  are  not  on  guard  are 
at  work  on  the  roads.  I  came  off  guard  this  morning 
and  will  be  on  fatigue  duty  tomorrow  until  we  make 
some  move.  We  got  orders  this  morning  to  cook  up 
two  days'  rations  and  keep  it  on  hand  until  further 
orders.  I  can't  imagine  what  it  is  for.  We  have  had 
so  much  nice  weather  for  the  past  week  or  two.  I 
think  our  General  anticipates  an  attack.  I  don't  like 
the  idea  of  leaving  our  winter  quarters  this  time  of 
the  year.  We  are  bound  to  have  some  very  severe 
weather  yet.  The  day  Cullen  left,  it  snowed  about  two 
or  three  inches  deep,  and  before  the  next  day  at  12 
o'clock  all  traces  of  it  had  disappeared.  It  is  warm 
enough  at  present  to  be  without  a  fire.  All  are  busy 
cooking  up  rations  for  fear  we  may  have  to  leave.  I 
haven't  cut  the  ham  you  sent  by  Cullen,  yet,  and  I  have 
about  half  the  middling  which  Mr.  Christman  brought 
me.  I  have  one  or  two  potatoes  left  yet.  If  we  stay  here 
until  Spring,  I  think  I  shall  have  enough  to  last  me. 
If  you  have  an  opportunity,  I  should  like  to  have  about 
a  peck  of  peas.  They  go  farther  and  do  a  man  more 
good  than  anything  that  I  know  of. 

I  wish  you  would  send  my  copy  of  Shakespeare ;  it's 
a  brown  colored  back,  with  my  name  in  it.  Wrap  it 
up  and  send  it  by  May  Warren,  and  ask  him  to  give 
it  to  Pat  Wooten ;  he  promised  to  bring  it  for  me.  The 
needles  you  sent  me  are  the  very  sizes  I  wanted.     I 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE  AND   WALTER.  109 

am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  them.  You  need 
not  send  me  any  more  paper  and  envelopes  until  I  let 
you  know,  as  I  have  five  or  six  on  hand  and  I  want 
to  use  them  up  first.  I  have  not  received  the  letter 
yet  that  General  Battle  undertook  to  deliver  for  sister. 
His  Brigade  has  been  back  for  some  week  or  more. 
Give  my  love  to  all  the  family,  and  believe  me,  as  ever, 
Your  sincere  and  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 

Camp  Near  Orange  C.  H.,  March  29,  1864. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  wrote  you  a  short  letter  only  a  few  days  ago,  but 
as  some  little  excitement  outside  of  our  regular  rou- 
tine of  duty  has  occurred  within  the  past  few  days, 
I  thought  I  would  drop  you  a  little  history  of  it.  Gov- 
ernor Vance  arrived  among  us  last  Friday  evening, 
and  was  the  guest  of  General  Daniel.  He  delivered 
a  speech  before  that  Brigade  last  Saturday  evening. 
ALL  the  Generals  of  note  in  this  army  were  present 
and  on  the  stage  with  him,  embracing  Generals  Lee, 
Ewell,  A.  P.  Hill,  Stewart,  Wilcox,  Rodes  and  a  good 
many  others  whose  names  I  did  not  know ;  there  were 
some  twelve  or  fifteen  in  number.  I  did  not  hear  but 
a  part  of  the  speech,  as  the  crowd  was  so  large  that 
I  could  not  get  in  a  hundred  yards  of  him. 

Yesterday  there  was  a  grand  review  of  all  the  North 
Carolina  troops  that  is  in  this  Corps,  by  Gov.  Vance, 
including  the  Cavalry.  After  the  review  the  troops 
were  all  arranged  around  a  stage  erected  for  the  pur- 
pose in  the  camp  of  the  Thirtieth  Regiment,  and  he 


110  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OE  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

addressed  them  with  a  speech  of  three  or  four  hours 
length.  He  had  the  whole  assembly  in  an  uproar  in 
less  than  two  minutes  after  he  arose.  He  said  it  did 
not  sound  right  to  him  to  address  us  as  "Fellow  Sol- 
diers," because  he  was  not  one  of  us — he  used  to  be 
until  he  shirked  out  of  the  service  for  a  little  office 
down  in  North  Carolina,  so  now  he  would  address  us 
as  "Fellow  Tar  Heels,"  as  we  always  stick. 

I  was  in  a  good  place  to  hear  every  word  that  he 
said,  and  I  don't  think  I  ever  listened  to  a  more  able 
speech  of  the  kind  in  my  life.  It  was  very  able  and 
deep,  interspersed  with  anecdotes,  illustration  of  his 
subject,  which  kept  the  men  from  feeling  fatigued. 
The  review  took  up  some  two  hours,  marching  all 
over  the  fields,  and  then  we  had  to  stand  up  all  the 
while  the  speech  was  being  delivered.  Nearly  the 
whole  camp  was  there,  in  fact,  there  were  thousands 
that  could  not  hear  him  from  their  distance.  There 
was  some  dozen  or  two  ladies  present.  After  Gov. 
Vance  got  through,  the  crowd  called  for  General  Early. 
He  arose  and  spoke  a  short  time,  then  General  Rodes ; 
after  he  was  through  Gov.  Vance  arose  again  and  said 
he  must  talk  a  little  more,  too.  He  related  two  or , 
three  anecdotes  relative  to  the  Yankee  characters  and 
then  retired  amidst  deafening  "Rebel  Yells."  This 
morning  it's  cold  and  has  just  commenced  raining.  I 
think  it  will  end  in  a  snow.  The  last  of  the  big  snow 
has  gone.  Clarke's  mountain  is  covered  yet.  I  forgot 
to  tell  you  that  I  received  your  letter  night  before  last. 
My  love  to  all. 

Believe  me,  as  ever,  yours,  etc. 

Walter. 


LETTERS   EROM   GEORGE  AND   WALTER.  Ill 

Camp,  Winter  Quarters,  April  21st,  1864. 
My  Dear  Sister: 

Once  more  in  our  same  old  quarters,  though  we 
little  thought  a  week  ago  that  we  would  ever  live  to  see 
them  again.  We  had  a  very  quiet  time  on  picket  this 
week,  at  the  same  time  the  most  pleasant  we  have  had 
this  winter.  Only  one  day  and  night  of  rain,  the  rest 
of  the  time  the  most  delightful  kind  of  weather.  The 
boys  when  not  on  duty  amused  themselves  at  various 
sports,  some  fishing,  some  digging  ground  hogs  out 
of  their  holes  (an  animal  that  I  never  saw  until  I 
came  to  Virginia),  while  nearly  the  whole  regiment 
amused  themselves  gathering  wild  onions.  The  doc- 
tors recommend  them  very  highly  on  account  of  their 
preventing  scurvy.  Gen.  Ransom  had  a  kettle  for 
each  company  brought  down  the  line,  for  the  purpose 
of  cooking  them.  We  had  one  man  from  our  regi- 
ment Company  D.  to  desert  while  on  his  post.  He  left 
his  gun  and  accoutrements  and  swam  the  river. 

Last  Tuesday  the  Yankees  had  a  tremendous  can- 
nonading going  on  for  upwards  of  two  hours.  Just 
across  the  river  we  could  hear  the  balls  flying  through 
the  air  also  hear  them  explode.  The  most  reasonable 
supposition  of  the  cause  was  that  they  were  practicing 
previous  to  their  attacking  us.  We  have  a  rumor  to- 
day that  they  have  fallen  back  towards  Centerville, 
whether  it  be  true  or  not,  there  were  plenty  of  them 
on  the  river  this  morning  when  we  left.  Col.  Grimes 
took  our  band  down  with  us  this  time,  and  every  night 
they  would  get  on  a  high  bluff  on  the  banks  of  the 
river  and  give  the  Yankees  a  serenade,  closing  with 


112  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF   THE   CIVIE  WAR. 

"Dixie"  and  the  "Old  North  State."  Sometimes  one  of 
their  bands  would  strike  up  in  answer.  The  week  be- 
fore we  went  down,  there  was  a  Yankee  Sergeant 
deserted  and  came  over  to  us,  reporting  that  Grant 
was  to  have  attacked  us  last  Sunday  morning.  The 
whole  picket  force  were  under  arms  that  morning  two 
hours  before  day  ready  to  receive  him.  I  was  on  the 
outpost  that  night  and  just  before  day,  could  not  help 
from  wishing  that  they  would  come  across  and  attack 
our  breastworks.  But  Sunday  came  and  passed  and 
everything  remained  quiet  on  both  sides. 

The  man  who  told  you  we  were  suffering  for  bread 
was  mistaken.  Our  meat  is  very  slim,  though  we 
make  out  very  well.  As  for  bread  we  get  more  than 
we  can  eat.  There  is  not  a  man  in  our  company  who 
has  not  got  him  a  bag  of  extra  meal,  gradually  in- 
creased from  his  daily  rations.  We  draw  just  as  much 
sugar  and  coffee  as  we  could  wish  for.  Meat  is  the 
only  thing  we  are  stinted  with.  We  have  not  drawn 
any  beef  or  ham  in  a  month  or  two.  We  have  (that 
is  General  Lee  has)  just  received  an  official  telegram 
from  North  Carolina  stating  that  Gen.  Hoke  had  cap- 
tured sixteen  hundred  prisoners  and  twenty-five  pieces 
of  cannon  at  Plymouth,  that's  cheering  news  indeed, 
particularly  from  North  Carolina.  I  hope  Washing- 
ton and  Newbern  may  fall  likewise.    My  love  to  all. 

Your  devoted  brother, 

Walter. 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE  AND   WALTER.  113 

A  soldier  of  the  Legion  lay  dying  in  Algiers, 

There  was  lack  of  woman's  nursing,  there  was  dearth  of 
woman's   tears; 
But  a  comrade  stood  beside  him,   while  his  lifeblood  ebbed 
away, 

And  bent,  with  pitying  glances,  to  hear  what  he  might  say. 
The  dying  soldier  faltered,  and  he  took  that  comrade's  hand, 

As  he  said,  "I  never  more  shall  see  my  own,  my  native  land; 
Take  a  message,  and  a  token,  to  some  distant  friends  of  mine, 

For  I  was  born  at  Bingen, — at  Bingen  on  the  Rhine." 
His  trembling  voice  grew  faint  and  hoarse, 

His  grasp  was  childish,  weak, — 
His  eyes  put  on  a  dying  look, — 

He  sighed  and  ceased  to  speak. 
His  comrade  bent  to  lift  him, 

But  the  spark  of  life  had  fled, — 
The  soldier  of  the  Legion  in  a  foreign  land  is  dead! 

And  the  soft  moon  rose  up  slowly, 
And  calmly  she  looked  down 

On  the  red  sand  of  the  battle-field, 
With  bloody   corses   strewn, 

Yes,  calmly  on  that  dreadful  scene 
Her  pale  light  seemed  to  shine, 

As  it  shone  on  distant  Bingen, — fair  Bingen — on  the  Rhine. 

— Caroline   E.   Norton. 

In  Line  oe  Battle;  Near  Spotsylvania 

Court  House,  Va.,  May  14,  1864. 
My  Dear  Folks: 

Through  the  kind  providence  of  the  Almighty  God 
I  have  come  out  so  far  safe  and  sound  and  am  spared 
once  more  to  gladden  your  hearts  by  writing  you.  I 
scarcely  know  what  to  write  you  about  or  where  to 
commence.  Pen  cannot  describe  or  words  relate  the 
many  adventures  which  we  have  passed  through  dur- 
ing the  past  ten  days.  We  have  been  fighting  to-day, 
makes  eleven  days  and  we  have  repulsed  and  whipped 
the  Yankees  every  time  they  have  attacked  us.  God 
only  knows  how  much  longer  the  battle  will  last,  but  if 


114  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OE   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

we  are  as  successful  in  the  future  as  we  thus  far  have 
been,  Grant  may  continue  the  battle  for  a  month  so 
far  as  I  care.  In  that  time  I  don't  think  he  will  have 
a  single  man  left.  His  loss  up  to  the  present  time  is 
estimated  at  seventy  thousand.  Our  loss  is  compara- 
tively small,  as  we  fought  them  most  of  the  time  in 
our  breastworks.  Last  Sunday  is  the  first  time  our 
brigade  had  any  regular  engagement  with  the  enemy, 
though  we  had  charged  them  several  times  and  run 
them  from  their  positions  without  firing  a  gun. 

Last  Sunday  about  8  o'clock  it  was  ascertained  that 
the  Yankees  had  made  a  flank  movement  and  were 
making  for  Richmond  by  Spotsylvania  Court  House. 
We  were  almost  worn  out  with  fatigue  from  march- 
ing or  loss  of  sleep  when  we  started  from  this  place 
to  front  them.  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  a  hotter  day 
in  all  my  life.  The  men  were  fainting  by  the  dozens, 
and  very  frequently  one  would  drop  dead  in  his  tracks 
from  overheat.  The  distance  was  about  eighteen 
miles.  We  had  gotten  in  about  six  miles  of  the  place, 
when  Gen.  Ramseur  rode  down  the  line  with  a  dis- 
patch from  Gen.  Longstreet  stating  that  he  had  re- 
pulsed the  enemy  with  heavy  loss,  and  that  if  the 
troops  could  hold  out  to  get  there  in  time  to  meet 
the  second  attack,  in  case  the  enemy  made  one,  every- 
thing would  be  right. 

He  appealed  to  his  brigade  to  know  if  they  would 
go.  The  answer  was  a  shout  that  we  would.  Some 
of  the  men  were  so  tired  and  worn  out  they  could 
hardly  halloo.  I  was  among  that  number,  when  in 
about  three  miles  of  this  place  I  was  forced  to  drop 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE)  AND   WALTER.  115 

from  overheat,  and  the  brigade  left  me.  I  never  hated 
anything  so  bad  in  all  my  life  before,  so  much  as  to 
be  left  behind  as  then.  The  brigade  had  left  about 
an  hour  when  I  heard  the  enemy's  cannon  open.  It 
was  like  an  electric  shock  to  me,  I  bounced  up  and 
determined  to  go  or  die.  I  threw  away  everything  I 
had  but  my  gun  and  accoutrements,  including  three 
days'  rations  that  I  had  not  tasted  since  drawing  them 
(without  thinking  where  I  was  to  get  any  more),  and 
caught  up  with  the  brigade  in  about  fifteen  minutes 
before  we  charged  the  enemy  and  fought  them  until 
after  dark.  Our  loss  this  night  was  small.  The  night 
was  spent  in  building  our  breastworks. 

Last  Thursday  though  is  the  day  that  will  be  remem- 
bered by  both  armies  as  long  as  one  man  is  left  to  tell 
the  tale.  At  daylight  they  attacked  the  line  a  little 
to  our  right,  drove  our  men  out  of  both  lines  of  breast- 
works and  the  result  was  hanging  in  the  scales  when 
our  brigade  was  taken  from  one  position  and  moved 
around  in  front  of  them.  The  stars  and  stripes  were 
floating  proudly  all  along  our  works  when  the  order 
was  given  to  "forward  without  firing."  We  com- 
menced moving  up  pretty  briskly,  when  our  men  com- 
menced falling  so  fast,  that  the  order  was  given  to 
"double  quick."  No  sooner  said  than  done.  We 
rushed  forward  with  a  yell  and  took  the  first  line  of 
works  like  a  flash.  We  remained  there  long  enough 
to  fire  a  round  or  two  and  clear  the  way  in  front  of 
us,  when  the  order  came  to  charge  the  other.  We 
took  that  also  with  a  large  number  of  prisoners,  then 
the  fight  commenced  in  earnest.     It  was  a  continuous 


116  forget-m^-nots  of  the  civil  war. 

charge  and  a  war  of  musketry  from  that  time,  nine 
o'clock,  until  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  we 
evacuated  that  line  for  another  which  had  been  estab- 
lished and  fortified  during  the  night.  There  is  not 
a  man  in  this  brigade  who  will  ever  forget  the  sad 
requiem,  which  those  minie  balls  sung  over  the  dead 
and  dying  for  twenty-two  long  hours;  they  put  one 
in  mind  of  some  musical  instrument;  some  sounded 
like  wounded  men  crying ;  some  like  humming  of  bees ; 
some  like  cats  in  the  depth  of  the  night,  while  others 
cut  through  the  air  with  only  a  "Zip"  like  noise.  I 
know  it  to  be  the  hottest  and  the  hardest  fought  battle 
that  has  even  been  on  this  continent.  You  would 
hardly  recognize  any  of  us  at  present.  Every  one 
looks  as  if  he  had  passed  through  a  hard  spell  of  sick- 
ness, black  and  muddy  as  hogs.  There  was  no  one 
too  nice  that  day  to  drop  himself  behind  the  breast- 
works. Brigadiers  and  Colonels  lay  as  low  in  the 
trench  and  water  as  the  men.  It  rained  all  that  day 
and  night,  and  the  water  was  from  three  to  six  inches 
deep  all  along.  If  it  had  been  winter  the  last  man 
would  have  been  frozen.  I  am  too  worn  out  to  write 
anything  of  any  interest.  I  am  about  half  dead  yet, 
as  is  every  one  else  from  the  effects  of  the  cannon- 
ading. My  love  to  all,  and  believe  me,  your  sincere  son, 

Walter. 
In  Line  Battle  Near  Spottsylvania 

Court  House,  Va.,  May  17,  1864. 

My  Dear  Mother: 

Again  by  kind  Providence  I  am  permitted  to  write 

you  a  short  letter.    There  has  been  no  general  engage- 


L£TT£RS   FROM   GEORGE   AND   WALTER.  117 

ment  since  I  last  wrote  you.  Fights  and  skirmishing 
are  kept  up  along  the  line.  Our  brigade  is  now  the 
extreme  left  of  the  whole  army.  Cavalry  joins  us  on 
our  left.  What  Grant  is  waiting  for  it  is  impossible 
to  say.  It  is  rumored  through  camps  that  he  has 
gone  to  Washington  to  consult  with  Lincoln.  I  do 
not  think  it  is  possible  to  have  any  harder  righting 
than  we  had  last  Thursday.  Our  brigade  did  some 
of  the  hardest  fighting  that  day  and  night  that  has 
been  done  during  the  war.  It  is  hard  to  realize  what 
our  brigade  did  actually  accomplish  that  day.  That 
morning  at  day  break  the  enemy  attacked  Johnston's 
whole  division  and  took  their  breastworks  from  them, 
together  with  fifteen  or  twenty  pieces  of  artillery, 
which  endangered  the  whole  of  Evill's  corps,  owing 
to  the  nature  of  the  position  which  he  held.  Our 
brigade  after,  we  had  charged  and  run  the  Yankees 
from  their  works,  was  not  long  enough  to  cover  the 
line  held  by  Johnston's  division,  so  the  Yankees  held 
a  position  on  our  right,  upon  a  hill  which  enabled 
them  to  keep  up  an  incessant  enfilading  fire  upon 
us;  two  thirds  of  the  men  which  we  lost  were  done 
in  that  way.  Men  were  killed  while  squatting  just 
as  low  and  as  close  to  the  breastworks  as  it  was  possi- 
ble for  them  to  get.  Tom  Atkinson,  poor  fellow,  was 
shot  through  the  head,  right  by  my  side,  another  man 
in  Company  "E"  was  killed  on  the  other;  the  man 
in  front  was  shot  through  the  body.  I  did  not  real- 
ize then  what  a  hot  place  we  were  in.  It  was  a  won- 
der to  me  that  the  last  one  of  us  was  not  killed.     We 


118  FORGST-ME-NOTS  OF   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

were  exposed  to  that  fire  for  twenty-two  hours.  Gen. 
Rodes  sent  word  to  Gen.  Ramseur  he  would  send  his 
reinforcements,  but  Gen.  R.  sent  him  word  that  he 
had  taken  the  position  and  he  was  confident  his  brig- 
ade would  hold  it.  All  he  wanted  to  let  us  alone  and 
send  us  ammunition,  which  he  did.  I  shot  away  120 
rounds  of  cartridges  myself,  three  cartridge  boxes  full. 

Friday  morning  about  an  hour  before  day,  we  evac- 
uated the  works,  which  had  been  thrown  up  during 
the  night  by  the  entire  pioneer  force  of  the  whole 
army.  I  don't  suppose  there  is  any  man  that  can 
express  the  relief  he  felt  after  getting  out  of  such  a 
place.  Our  rations  were  out  the  evening  before  and 
we  had  orders  to  be  ready  to  move  next  morning  at 
3  o'clock.  We  did  not  have  time  to  fill  our  canteens, 
so  we  did  not  have  a  mouthful  to  eat  or  drink  when 
we  went  into  the  fight.  The  ditches  behind  the  works 
were  from  three  to  six  inches  deep  in  mud  and  water, 
and  in  addition  to  it  it  was  raining  incessantly  from 
light  that  morning  until  we  left  the  works  the  next 
morning  after. 

You  can  form  some  idea  what  our  feelings  would 
have  been,  putting  all  these  privations  together,  had 
there  been  no  danger  attending,  but  add  to  all  this 
the  thought  that  the  next  minute  may  be  your  last, 
is  another  thing  altogether.  There  is  not  a  man  in  this 
brigade  who  will  ever  forget  it.  I  forgot  to  mention 
in  my  last  that  Burton's  leg  was  broken  and  he  fell 
in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Pat  Wooten  was  also 
wounded  on  the  leg.     Hoping  that  kind  Providence 


LETTERS   EROM   GEORGE   AND   WALTER.  119 

may  spare  me  to  see  the  end  of  this  great  struggle,  I 
remain,  as  ever,  your  sincere  and  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 

Winder  Hospital,  Richmond, 

Second  Division,  Ward  28, 

May  25th,  1864. 
Dear  Mother: 

You  will  undoubtedly  be  surprised  and  I  fear 
alarmed  to  receive  a  letter  from  me  at  this  place.  But 
do  not  let  your  mind  feel  any  uneasiness  at  all.  Kind 
providence  has  so  far  favored  me  that  I  have  passed 
through  another  very  severe  battle  with  only  a  skin 
wound  on  the  inside  of  my  knee.  Though  the  exposure 
that  we  had  to  endure  that  evening  and  night  (Thurs- 
day, the  19th  inst),  was  most  too  much  for  me.  We 
fought  for  three  or  four  hours  in  the  evening,  in  a 
drenching  rain,  until  night  coming  on,  we  rectified 
our  lines,  threw  up  some  little  breastworks  with  our 
bayonets,  anticipating  a  night  attack  by  the  Yankees. 
Our  lines  were  in  speaking  distance  of  each  other.  The 
Yankees  would  give  us  a  cheer,  then  our  boys  would 
answer  with  a  deafening  Rebel  Yell.  Gen.  Ramseur 
hallooed  out  to  them  twice,  "Come  on  Yankees,"  but 
they  did  choose  to  do  so,  though  I  believe  they  tried 
to  make  their  men  charge  us,  as  we  would  hear  their 
commands  to  that  effect.  We  lay  there  about  half  the 
night,  in  the  mud  and  water,  behind  our  little  mound 
of  earth  thrown  up  with  our  bayonets  and  hands,  when 
we  were  ordered  to  fall  back  as  quietly  as  possible. 


120  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OE  THE   CIVII,   WAR. 

Such  a  command  at  such  a  time  puts  a  strange  feeling 
on  a  person,  a  relief  to  the  mind  which  I  can't  describe, 
nor  any  one  realize,  but  those  who  have  once  been 
placed  in  that  situation.  I  always  have  had  a  horrible 
idea  of  a  night  attack,  and  I  do  hope  I  may  never  have 
to  encounter  one.  We  marched  back  to  our  breast- 
works that  night  (about  six  miles).  Reached  there 
about  day  break;  since  then  I  have  been  troubled  with 
weakness  in  the  back  and  a  general  exhaustion  from 
over  fatigue.  I  was  not  able  to  keep  up  and  do  duty 
with  the  regiment,  so  I  was  sent  off  with  a  lot  of 
wounded,  as  that  was  no  place  for  a  sick  man,  looking 
for  a  big  fight  at  any  moment.  I  think  I  shall  be  re- 
cruited enough  in  a  week  or  so  to  return.  Don't  feel 
any  anxiety  on  my  account,  as  everything  may  turn 
out  for  the  best.     Write  me  at  this  place  as  soon  as 

you  receive  this. 

Yours,  etc., 

Walter. 

Don't  either  of  you  get  uneasy  on  my  account  and 
try  to  come  out  here.  I  will  let  you  know  if  I  get 
bad  off  to  need  your  attention.  I  have  written  you 
two  letters  since  the  fighting  commenced;  did  you  re- 
ceive them?  Send  me  a  sheet  of  paper  as  soon  as  you 
receive  this,  and  I  will  write  you  again  immediately. 

Camp  Near  Bunker  Hill,  Va.,  Aug.  30,  1864. 
Dear  Mother: 

I  take  this  occasion  to  drop  you  a  few  lines,  as  you 
will  be  more  likely  to  get  it  if  I  send  it  by  Capt.  Thomp- 
son than  by  mail.     I  got  with  the  regiment  last  Sat- 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE  AND   WAI/TER.  121 

urday  at  Bunker  Hill,  as  they  fell  back  from  Charles- 
town.  We  went  into  camp  and  remained  quietly  until 
yesterday  morning  when  the  Yankees  advanced  on 
Martinsburg  pike.  We  were  thrown  in  line  of  battle 
and  remained  so  all  day;  the  Yankees  having  retired 
we  went  back  into  camp  a  little  after  dark.  We  re- 
ceived orders  last  night  to  be  ready  to  move  this  morn- 
ing at  sunrise.  'Tis  now  about  eleven  o'clock  and  we 
are  still  in  camp  and  will  probably  remain  here  the 
remainder  of  the  day,  though  two  or  three  days  is 
a  long  time  for  us  to  remain  in  camp  without  some 
move.  The  boys  all  seem  to  be  in  very  good  spirits, 
though  they  look  quite  thin  from  the  hard  marching 
they  have  had  to  do  since  they  left  Richmond.  It's 
my  opinion  that  the  army  will  fall  back  towards  Stras- 
burg  in  a  few  days,  though  it's  only  a  conjecture  of  my 
own.  I  have  been  in  excellent  health  ever  since  I 
left  home,  though  at  times  I  have  had  the  blues  pretty 
bad.  I  begin  to  feel  perfectly  at  home  and  every- 
thing begins  to  feel  like  old  times.  I  am  in  hopes  we 
have  done  most  of  our  hard  marching  that  is  the  only 
thing  I  am  dreading  now.  The  weather  has  turned 
some  cooler,  the  nights  are  quite  cool,  making  a  heavy 
blanket  feel  quite  comfortable. 

Tell  Mr.  Rhodes  that  Blake  is  with  the  Company 
and  is  looking  very  well,  he  was  only  at  the  hospital 
a  few  days  from  being  broken  down.  He  is  asleep 
now,  or  I  would  ask  him  if  he  wished  to  send  any 
message.  Write  soon.  My  love  to  all  the  family.  I 
remain  as  ever, 

Your  sincere  and  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 


122  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

United  States  Prisoners  Camp, 
Point  Lookout,  Md.,  Sept.  29,  1864. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

At  the  battle  of  Winchester,  fought  the  19th  of 
this  month,  myself,  together  with  seven  others  of 
our  company,  were  captured,  namely  Henry  Warren, 
Emerson  Winstead,  Pat  Wooten,  Bunyan  Barnes,  Ed- 
win Barnes,  Byrant  Stokes  and  Joel  Taylor.  All  of 
us  are  in  very  good  health.  All  of  us  have  written 
although  some  of  our  letters  may  be  lost.  Give  my  love 
to  all  the  family.  Please  write  as  soon  as  you  receive 
this.  Direct  me  care  of  Major  Brady,  Provost  Mar- 
shal. Let  me  know  whether  Blake  was  killed  or 
wounded.     Goodbye,  believe  me  as  ever 

Your  sincere  and  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 


When  I  remember  all 

The  friends,  so  linked  together, 
I've  seen  around  me  fall, 

Like  leaves  in  wintry  weather, 
I  feel  like  one 

Who  treads  alone 
Some  banquet  hall  deserted, 

Whose  light  are   fled, 
Whose  garlands  dead, 

And  all  but  he  departed; 
Thus,  in  the  stilly  night, 

Ere  slumber's  chain  has  bound  me, 
Sad  memory  brings  the  light 

Of  other  days  around  me. 

— Thomas  Moore. 


LETTERS   FROM    GEORGE   AND   WALTER.  123 

Camp  Three  Miles  North  of  Petersburg, 
Christmas  Day,  Dec.  25,  '64. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  intended  to  have  written  the  day  after  getting 
here,  but  it  rained  all  day  and  the  coldest  kind  of  a 
rain  too.  The  next  day  we  received  orders  to  move. 
We  had  almost  completed  our  winter  quarters  and 
the  boys  hated  to  leave  very  much.  We  did  not  think 
at  the  time  we  should  ever  come  back  again,  though 
some  men  from  each  company  was  left  in  camp  to  take 
care  of  the  things.  I  was  the  one  from  our  company 
left. 

Last  Thursday  about  sunset  the  division  left  and 
camped  in  a  mile  or  two  of  Drury's  Bluff,  some  ten 
miles  from  here.  Last  night  about  9  o'clock  they 
returned.  We  shall  complete  our  quarters  in  two  or 
three  days  now.  To-day  being  Sunday  and  Xmas 
too,  the  boys  think  we  should  rest.  It  is  the  gloomiest 
Xmas  that  I  ever  saw.  We  not  only  miss  the  extras 
which  we  have  had  heretofore,  but  we  have  not  got 
as  much  meat  or  bread  as  we  can  eat.  The  Xmas 
dinner  promised  to  Lee's  army,  I  see  in  the  papers, 
has  been  postponed  until  New  Year's  day.  I  doubt 
then  whether  we  get  any  as  we  are  not  in  the  intrench- 
ments,  though  I  think  we  deserve  it  as  much  as  they  do. 
We  have  done  as  much  hard  fighting  and  as  for 
the  marching  we  have  done  all.  The  boys 
were  all  very  glad  to  see  us.  Gen.  Grimes 
happened  to  ride  by  as  I  arrived  and  was  pulling  my 
things  off.  He  stopped  and  had  quite  a  long  chat,  he 
seemed  right  glad  to  see  me  back.     Col.  Venable,  one 


124  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

of  Gen.  Lee's  staff,  told  Gen.  Grimes,  who  is  in  com- 
mand of  the  division  now,  to  make  his  men  as  com- 
fortable as  possible,  that  we  would  in  all  probability 
remain  here  all  the  winter,  unless  something  turned 
up  unforeseen  at  present.  I  am  in  hopes  it  may  be 
so,  for  I  think  our  division  needs  rest  if  any  troops  in 
the  army  do.  I  understand  we  came  here  to  relieve 
some  of  the  troops  in  the  fortification,  but  as  they 
had  made  themselves  comfortable,  they  would  not  be 
relieved.  They  preferred  to  remain  in  the  works  on 
the  front  line.  I  think  they  are  sensible  too,  for  I 
expect  they  will  have  us  running  all  around,  just  as 
we  did  the  past  two  or  three  days,  all  winter.  I  almost 
wish  we  had  been  sent  South  instead  of  Hoke's  divi- 
sion. In  passing  through  Raleigh  I  staid  all  night  at 
the  "Way-Side-Inn."  Next  morning  in  rolling  up 
my  blankets  I  forgot  to  put  my  socks  in  and  came  off 
and  left  them.  I  never  hated  anything  so  bad  in 
my  life.  Just  think  they  were  the  only  extra  pieces 
of  clothing  I  took  along,  and  then  should  lose  them. 
If  McBride  has  not  left  before  you  receive  this  please 
send  me  another  pair.  If  you  have  any  extra  butter 
at  the  time  just  wrap  a  rag  around  a  small  ball  and 
get  him  to  bring  that  along.  It  is  the  best  way  to 
send  it  in  cold  weather.  He  will  have  to  walk  about 
a  mile  from  where  the  cars  stop  to  our  camp.  The 
cars  stop  two  miles  this  side  of  Petersburg,  for  fear 
of  being  shelled.  Blake  has  gone  to  Petersburg  today 
on  a  pass.  He  is  looking  very  well.  I  called  to  see 
uncle  Richard  while  in  Raleigh,  the  only  relative  I 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE  AND   WALTER.  125 

saw.     Raleigh  has  sadly  changed  in  four  years.     Give 
my  love  to  all  the  family. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 
Camp  Fourth   North   Carolina  Regiment, 
Near  Petersburg, 
Cox's  Brigade,  Rodes'  Division, 

W.  Va,  January  15,  1865. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

McBride  came  night  before  last  and  brought  every- 
thing safely,  except  the  butter.  He  looked  all  over 
his  baggage  and  we  searched  the  box  thoroughly,  but 
could  not  find  it.  The  articles  which  you  sent  me  were 
the  very  articles  which  we  needed  most,  especially  the 
peas.  We  draw  one  third  of  a  pound  of  meat  now 
and  we  make  out  very  well.  You  need  not  send  me 
any  more  meat,  as  you  need  that  more  than  we  do. 
Send  such  things  as  peas,  potatoes  and  such  things  as 
you  make  plenty  of  and  do  not  have  to  buy.  We  are 
very  comfortably  fixed  up  in  our  winter  quarters  now. 
We  have  been  busy  cleaning  up  for  the  past  two  weeks 
and  I  shall  be  glad  when  we  finish.  The  boys  have 
gone  into  these  quarters  with  less  spirit  than  any  we 
have  ever  built.  We  would  not  be  surprised  at  any 
moment  to  receive  marching  orders,  and  none  of  us 
have  any  idea  of  staying  here  until  spring.  The 
greater  part  of  the  soldiers  seem  to  be  in  low  spirits 
and  a  good  many  say  the  Confederacy  has  "gone  up" 
(as  they  term  it),  and  that  we  are  whipped.  I  have 
never  seen  the  men  so  discouraged  before.  I  hear 
also  that  the  men  are  deserting  the  front  lines  and 


126  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF   THE   CIVIL  WAR. 

going  home  by  large  squads.  If  this  is  true  and  it  is 
continued  long,  the  Yankees  will  whip  us  certain.  It 
is  the  opinion  here  that  Richmond  is  to  be  evacuated 
this  winter.  That  has  a  very  demoralizing  effect  on 
the  men  also.  I  hardly  think  that  General  Lee  will 
risk  a  battle  around  Richmond  in  the  spring,  unless 
he  gets  more  men.  I  don't  think  there  will  be  any 
general  engagement  here  during  the  winter.  The 
sharpshooters  keep  everything  alive  on  the  lines  day 
and  night.  Every  dark  and  cloudy  night  they  keep 
up  such  a  heavy  fire  as  to  resemble  a  line  of  battle; 
although  we  are  some  four  miles  off,  we  hear  every 
musket  that  is  fired,  as  distinctly  as  if  it  was  fired 
in  our  own  camp.  Every  two  or  three  days  the  bat- 
teries on  each  side  take  a  notion  to  have  a  little  duel, 
and  for  an  hour  or  two  there  is  a  cannon  shot  for 
nearly  every  minute,  then  gradually  dies  out.  It  used 
to  make  me  feel  a  little  uneasy  at  first,  for  when  we 
were  in  the  valley  and  heard  a  cannon  every  man 
would  fix  up  his  things,  and  by  the  time  he  got  that 
done,  marching  orders  would  come,  but  here  we  do 
not  mind  it  any  more  than  if  nothing  was  going  on. 
The  box  of  blankets  which  we  sent  to  Richmond  last 
winter,  and  the  one  in  which  my  shawl  was  packed, 
came  the  other  day.  Lieut.  Wells  expects  to  go  home 
in  a  few  days  and  I  shall  send  it  home  by  him.  I  drew 
a  new  blanket  and  also  a  pair  of  good  woolen  socks 
which,  with  the  ones  you  sent  me  by  Mac,  will  last 
me  the  rest  of  the  winter. 

Give  my  love  to  all. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 


letters  erom  george  and  walter.  127 

Camp  Fourth  North  Carolina  Regiment, 

Near  Petersburg,  January  18,  1865. 

Dear  Sister: 

I  send  by  the  boy  Church,  a  pair  of  shoes,  a  pair 
of  socks.  Brother  can  have  the  shoes  fixed  up  and 
wear  them.  I  guess  they  will  fit  him.  I  never  expect 
to  wear  them  again.  The  socks  only  need  a  little 
darning  to  make  them  serviceable.  I  shall  let  you 
know  when  I  shall  need  any  more.  The  book  I  send  is 
a  pretty  story  of  the  present  war.  Everything  seems 
to  be  unusually  quiet.  I  understand  picket  firing  has 
been  stopped  on  the  lines.  We  haven't  heard  any  for 
several  days,  neither  have  we  heard  any  cannonading. 
The  peace  question  is  all  the  excitement  in  camp  now. 
From  what  I  saw  in  the  "Examiner"  this  morning  I 
think  myself  there  is  something  in  the  wind.  I  do 
hope  peace  will  be  made  before  spring.  The  men  are 
getting  very  discouraged,  and  to  tell  the  truth,  they 
have  cause  to  be.  Some  of  our  regiment  was  down  on 
the  lines  Sunday,  and  they  say  the  troops  have  not 
had  any  meat  for  five  days.  If  the  men  are  not  fed 
they  will  not  stay  with  the  army.  They  are  deserting 
from  the  lines  every  night,  and  going  to  the  Yankees. 
Don't  send  me  anything  else  that  you  will  have  to 
buy,  or  need  before  the  end  of  the  year.  We  expect 
to  go  on  picket  this  coming  Sunday,  to  be  gone  a 
week.     My  love  to  all. 

Your  devoted  brother, 

Walter. 


128  forget-me-nots  oe  the  civie  war. 

Camp  Fourth  North  Carolina  Regiment, 
Near  Petersburg,  Va.,  Jan.  29,  1865. 
My  Dear  Folks: 

I  received  your  letter  dated  20th  inst,  yesterday, 
which  made  nine  days  that  it  has  been  on  the  way. 

Last  week  we  spent  on  the  front  lines  doing  picket 
duty  in  the  place  of  Scales  Brigade  which  has  been 
sent  off.  We  had  an  awful  time;  the  whole  week  it 
rained,  and  sleeted  part  of  the  time,  and  the  rest  of 
the  time,  it  kept  up  the  coldest  wind  that  I  ever  felt. 
The  men  on  vidette  had  to  be  relieved  every  half  hour, 
to  keep  from  freezing.  One  man  in  our  regiment  got 
so  cold  he  could  hardly  talk  when  he  was  relieved.  On 
the  right  of  our  brigade,  the  Yankees  were  some  six 
or  eight  hundred  yards  off,  but  on  the  left  we  were 
near  enough  to  talk  to  each  other  in  an  ordinary  tone 
of  voice,  though  we  were  not  allowed  to  speak  to  them 
or  to  communicate  with  them  in  any  way.  We  had 
two  men  to  desert  our  regiment  and  go  to  the  enemy. 
They  were  two  brothers.  I  am  afraid  we  will  have 
more  desertions  in  the  spring  than  we  have  ever  had 
yet.  The  men  are  getting  very  must  dissatisfied.  The 
Consolidation  Bill,  which  is  to  be  carried  into  effect 
shortly  will  cause  a  good  deal  of  desertion  among  our 
best  soldiers.  I  am  afraid  our  company  and  regiment 
will  lose  their  name  after  all  the  hard  service  which 
we  have  done  since  the  commencement  of  the  war. 
There  are  a  good  many  peace  rumors  circulating 
through  camp,  which  gives  the  men  something  to  talk 
about.  I  fear  it  will  all  end  in  another  summer's  hard 
fighting.     If  Blake  comes  by  home,  when  he  starts 


LETTERS   EROM   GEORGE  AND   WALTER.  129 

back,  you  may  send  me  a  gallon  of  peas  and  some 
potatoes.  You  need  not  send  anything  that  you  will 
have  to  buy.  I  expect  we  draw  as  much  meat  here  in 
the  army  as  you  can  afford  to  eat  at  home.  I  hope 
something  will  turn  up  by  spring  which  will  enable 
me  to  go  home.  I  should  like  very  much  to  see  a  good 
crop  growing  on  our  little  places.  What  does  brother 
intend  doing  in  case  the  war  continues?  I  hope  he 
will  never  have  to  go.  If  he  does,  anything  is  pref- 
erable to  infantry  in  the  field. 
Give  my  love  to  all. 

Yours  affectionately, 

Walter. 

Camp.  Cox's  Brigade,  Near  Petersburg,  Va., 

February  14,  1865. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  would  have  written  on  receipt  of  your  letter  and 
box,  which  you  sent  me,  but  the  troops  were  off  at 
the  time  and  there  was  no  means  of  mailing  a  letter. 
Our  division  was  ordered  down  on  the  extreme  right 
last  Sunday  a  week  ago,  to  meet  the  Yankees  at 
Hatcher's  Run.  Our  division  was  not  engaged;  the 
other  two  divisions  of  our  corps  did  some  fighting 
before  we  got  there.  The  troops  were  gone  about 
a  week,  and  they  suffered  considerably  from  the  cold. 
It  was  snowing  and  sleeting  when  they  left.  I  missed 
the  pleasure  of  that  trip.  I  have  been  permanently 
detailed  at  brigade  headquarters  in  charge  of  a  guard, 
to  guard  quartermaster's  stores,  and  things  generally 
among  the  wagon  yards.  I  have  three  in  charge,  and 
all  I  have  to  do  is  to  see  that  they  do  their  duty.    We 


130  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OE  THE   CIVIL  WAR. 

have  our  quarters  separate,  and  nothing  to  do  but 
keep  up  one  post  at  night.  We  have  no  other  duty 
whatever  to  do,  not  even  to  answer  to  roll  call.  Capt. 
Jones,  our  A.  A.  General,  who  gave  me  the  detail, 
told  me  to  select  my  own  men,  so  I  took  one  from  our 
company,  so  that  I  might  have  an  agreeable  bedfellow 
and  messmate.  George  Winstead  is  his  name.  Wiley 
Winstead's  brother.  I  am  just  as  comfortably  fixed 
now  as  I  could  wish  to  be  out  here.  I  shall  miss  all 
the  trips  the  troops  will  have  to  make  during  the  win- 
ter, such  as  picket  duty,  and  all  raids  to  head  off  the 
"Yankees"  unless  we  break  up  this  camp  entirely.  Our 
brigade  goes  on  picket  this  morning,  Saturday.  I 
am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  box  of  provisions. 
I  expect  there  is  a  movement  on  hand  now,  as 
there  is  an  order  to  issue  three  days'  rations  to  the 
men.  Marching  orders  do  not  trouble  me  so  much 
now,  as  the  guard  is  always  apt  to  guard  the  forage, 
etc.,  which  is  left  in  camp.  I  think  of  home  every 
time  I  take  out  my  little  ball  of  butter  to  eat  with  a 
roasted  potato  at  night  before  bed  time.  George  Win- 
stead  got  a  few  potatoes  from  home  the  same  day  my 
box  came.  I  generally  spend  most  of  my  time  read- 
ing whatever  I  am  able  to  borrow.  I  wish  I  could 
get  something  that  would  be  more  useful  to  me  than 
novels.  I  hope  Blake  got  my  shawl  home  all  safe. 
Give  my  love  to  all  the  family.  Dossey  has  just  been 
in  to  see  me  on  his  way  back  to  camp.  He  has  been 
to  Petersburg  on  business  for  Gaston.  He  is  very 
well. 

Your  sincere  and  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 


letters  from  george  and  walter.  131 

Wagon  Yard,  Cox's  Brigade,  Near 
Petersburg,  Va.,  March  23rd,  1865. 
My  Dear  Mother: 

I  received  your  letter,  bearing  the  date  of  March 
14th,  a  few  minutes  ago.  It  seems  that  about  nine 
days  is  the  average  length  of  time  for  a  letter  to  come 
from  home  here.  I  wrote  you  a  letter  just  before  we 
left  the  old  camp,  which  you  have  doubtless  received 
ere  this.  We  have  moved  twice  since  I  wrote  that 
letter.  After  the  first  move,  we  were  temporarily  at- 
tached to  Mahone's  Division,  the  last  move  we  made 
we  joined  our  own  division,  which  is  in  the  entrench- 
ments in  front  of  Petersburg.  Our  Brigade  is  on  the 
extreme  left  of  it,  between  the  Appomattox  River  and 
Swift  Creek,  with  the  river  between  us  and  the  Yan- 
kees. 

I  have  not  been  down  on  the  lines  since  we  last 
moved,  but  I  hear  that  it  is  a  very  good  place,  inas- 
much as  we  will  hardly  be  attacked  in  our  front  as  long 
as  we  stay  there.  I  am  still  staying  with  Capt.  Fair- 
cloth  in  the  Q.  M.  Department,  but  when  the  cam- 
paign opens,  I  expect  to  go  back  to  the  company,  as 
every  man  that  can  handle  a  gun  will  be  needed  there. 
Richmond  and  Petersburg  have  not  been  evacuated 
yet,  tho'  there  is  still  rumors  that  the  latter  place  will 
be.  The  papers  are  not  allowed  to  publish  any  war 
news,  so  we  are  as  completely  ignorant  as  you  are  as 
to  what  is  going  on.  I  am  very  uneasy  for  fear  that 
Sherman's  army  will  not  be  checked  before  we  have 
to  evacuate  Richmond  and  Peterburg.  If  that  army 
could  only  be  whipped,  and  it  must  be,  or  we  can't 


132  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OE   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

stay  in  Virginia,  I  would  still  feel  confident  of  the  final 
results.  There  are  a  good  many  of  our  soldiers  desert- 
ing to  the  enemy,  but  I  am  in  hopes  we  will  have 
enough  left  to  keep  the  Yankees  in  check  on  this  line. 
I  feel  a  good  deal  of  anxiety  on  account  of  Cullen's 
having  to  go  in  service  so  soon.  I  would  not  have  him 
join  this  regiment  for  anything.  If  he  cannot  obtain 
a  better  place,  I  will  try  and  get  him  into  Manley's  Bat- 
tery from  Raleigh,  which,  if  he  does  have  to  go  into 
active  service  right  away,  will  be  the  best  place  that  I 
can  think  of.  It  is  on  the  lines,  some  two  miles  to  our 
left,  where  it  has  been  about  ten  months,  without  losing 
a  man  in  battle.  If  he  was  in  that  company,  he  would 
see  a  much  easier  time  than  he  would  in  Infantry, 
being  small,  he  would  be  very  apt  to  be  made  a  driver 
and  in  time  of  fights  hold  the  horses  in  the  rear,  or 
in  some  place  where  they  can  be  sheltered.  What  time 
will  he  be  seventeen?  Write  to  me  as  soon  as  you  re- 
ceive this,  and  let  me  know  what  he  thinks  about  it. 
In  the  meantime,  I  will  go  over  to  Manley's  Battery 
and  see  if  I  can  get  him  in.  I  fear  that  it  will  be  full, 
as  I  know  a  good  many  young  men  who  joined  on 
coming  seventeen.  It  is  a  very  good  company  and 
composed  of  a  great  many  very  nice  men.  I  knew 
some  of  them  before  the  war.  I  am  intimately  ac- 
quainted with  all  of  the  officers.  Baz.  Manley  is  Capt. 
Bunny  Guion,  James  Powell  and  James  McKimmon, 
the  Lieutenant,  all  from  Raleigh.  Tell  Cullen  to  take 
my  advice  and  never  join  this  Regiment  as  long  as 
he  can  avoid  it.  However  much  I  would  like  to  have 
him  with  me.     I  am  giving  him  this  advice  for  his 


I 

.- 

/ 


Walter. 


LETTERS   FROM   GEORGE   AND   WAI/TER.  133 

own  good.  Please  think  about  the  matter  and  write 
me  immediately.  Give  my  love  to  all  the  family. 
Where  is  sister  ?  Is  she  at  Wilson  ?  I  will  write  again 
in  a  few  days,  probably  before  I  hear  from  you.  Tell 
Cullen  to  write  when  you  do.     Goodbye. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Walter. 

Alas,  these  letters  are  all  that  is  left  of  the  two  noble 
sons  and  brothers,  for  George  was  killed  at  the  battle 
of  "Seven  Pines"  while  Walter  died  from  exposure 
after  that  terrible  battle  he  so  vividly  describes  in  one 
of  his  letters.  "Requiescat  in  pace"  to  all  who  fell  in 
those  days  in  that  cruel  war. 


"All  quiet  along  the  Potomac,"  they  say, 

Except  now  and  then  a  stray  picket 
Is  shot  as  he  walks  on  his  beat,  to  and  fro, 

By  a  rifleman  hid  in  the  thicket; 
Tis  nothing,  a  private  or  two,  now  and  then, 

"Will  not  count  in  the  news  of  the  battle, 
Not  as  officers  lost — only  one  of  the  men 

Moaning  out,  all  alone  the  death  rattle." 

— Ethel  Lynn  Beers. 


"What  are  we  set  on  earth  for?    Say,  to  toil — 
Nor  seek  to  leave  thy  tending  of  the  vines, 
For  all  the  heat  o'  the  day,  till  it  declines, 
And  Death's  mild  curfew  shall  from  work  assoil. 
God  did  anoint  thee  with  His  odorous  oil, 
To  wrestle,  not  to  reign;    and  He  assigns 
All  thy  tears  over,  like  pure  crystallines, 
For  younger  fellow-workers  of  the  soil 
To  wear  for  amulets.     So  others   shall 
Take  patience,  labor,  to  their  heart  and  hand, 
From  thy  hand  and  thy  heart,  and  thy  brave  cheer, 
And  God's  grace  fructify  through  thee  to  all. 
The  least  flower  with  a  brimming  cup,  may  stand 
And  share  its  dew-drop  with  another  near." 

— Elizabeth  Baeeett  Bbowning. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
My  First  School  Days. 

The  first  school  I  attended  was  more  of  a  kindergar- 
ten than  for  study.  My  teacher,  Miss  Hood,  called 
"Tump"  by  her  closest  friends,  permitted  me  to  do 
much  like  I  was  inclined,  and  the  time  I  spent  in  learn- 
ing the  alphabet,  if  properly  applied,  would  have  taken 
me  well  along  in  the  speller.  In  my  efforts  to  master 
the  "A.  B.  C.'s,"  I  reached  the  letter  "O"  and  here  I 
spent  days  and  weeks.  It  seemed  so  easy  compared 
with  the  ones  I  had  struggled  with  that  on  my  second 
trial  I  stood  by  the  teacher's  knee,  she  pointed  with 
pencil  to  the  little  fat  letter,  I  cried  out  in  delight,  "O 
here  she  is."  The  children  hearing  it  began  to  laugh, 
and  of  course  that  made  me  repeat  "O  here  she  is" 
again,  and  the  teacher  could  get  me  no  farther  down 
the  line  until  she  began  with  "Z"  and  worked  up- 
wards, where  I  was  delighted  to  meet  my  old  friend 
again  and  make  the  children  laugh  by  saying  "O  here 
she  is."  As  the  years  have  passed  I  have  observed  that 
all  my  sorrows  and  all  my  joys  have  begun  with  the 
exclamation   of   that   little   round   letter   "O." 

Then  I  was  advanced  a  grade  higher,  and  Mrs. 
Noble,  a  lady  both  noble  by  name  and  nature,  under- 
took the  work  of  teaching  me.     She  had  three  boys 

135 


136  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OE  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

and  one  girl  whom  she  taught  at  her  own  home,  and 
out  of  the  abundance  of  a  good  heart,  knowing  the 
burden  my  poor  mother  was  carrying,  offered  to  take 
me  as  a  pupil. 

One  morning  my  father  was  so  ill  he  decided  to 
send  for  a  lawyer  and  make  his  will,  always  wanting 
to  save  my  mother  all  worry  possible.  His  farm, 
"White  Oaks,"  had  now  become  valuable  for  cotton 
and  tobacco.  With  a  large  fruit  orchard,  and  near  a 
railroad  had  increased  its  value. 

When  Mr.  Hood,  the  lawyer,  came,  he  told  him 
that  he  wanted  to  bequeath  that  land  to  his  first  child- 
ren, and  the  lots  and  land  in  around  town,  with  house- 
hold goods  and  personal  effects,  to  my  mother,  know- 
ing she  would  make  a  fair  division  of  his  property. 
"Well,  Mr.  Lee,"  said  Mr.  Hood,  "what  will  you  do 
with  'Aunt  Pallas'?"  "Old  woman,  call  her  in  here," 
he  said.  Mother  did  as  requested,  and  Aunt  Pallas 
soon  appeared  at  the  door. 

"Pallas,"  said  my  father,  "I  am  making  my  will, 
and  I  want  to  know  if  you  still  object  to  being  set  free 
at  my  death?  I  have  tried,  year  after  year,  Mr.  Hood, 
to  give  her  freedom,  but  she  always  declined,  saying 
she  could  not  take  care  of  herself,  and  we  could  not 
take  care  of  the  children  without  her.  Now  I  am 
determined  to  leave  my  business  in  such  condition 
there  will  be  no  bother  to  my  wife,  who  has  had  to 
work  so  hard  ever  since  she  married  me,  that  I  want 
her  last  days  to  be  free  from  care  so  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned. Pallas  what  do  you  say  to  your  freedom 
now?" 


MY  FIRST  SCHOOL  DAYS.  137 

"Lawsa  massey  Mars  Charlie  I  ain't  got  no  notion 
of  bein'  a  free  niggah.  No  sah  I  ain't,  don't  put  dat 
down  in  black  and  white,  cause  I  shore  don't  want  no 
more  freedom  dan  I  has  already  got.  I  thankee,  Mars 
Charlie,  just  de  same." 

"Well,  Pallas,  do  you  want  to  stay  here  with  my 
wife  and  these  children,  or  go  and  live  with  some 
of  the  older  ones?  You  know  you  came  from  Col. 
Hinton." 

"No  sah,  Mars  Charlie,  I  don't  want  to  leave  Miss 
Candace  and  dese  chillun." 

"Well,  which  one  do  you  want  me  to  put  you  down 
in  the  will  as  owning  you?"  "Now,  Mars  Charlie, 
I  reckon  Betsey  will  need  me  longer  dan  de  balance, 
so  I'll  belong  to  de  baby." 

Not  wanting  to  separate  from  my  mother,  I  know 
now  why  she  chose  me  to  be  her  owner;  surely  we  all 
owned  her,  dear  old  faithful  mammy,  as  she  was, 
and  loved  her  too,  not  as  much  as  she  deserved,  but 
we  each  and  all  loved  her  as  our  own. 


Of  all  the  thoughts  of  God  that  are 

Borne  inward  into  souls  afar, 
Along  the  Psalmist's  music  deep, 

Now  tell  me  if  there  any  is, 
For  gift  or  grace  surpassing  this, 

"He    giveth    His    beloved    sleep." 

— Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

My  Father's  Death  and  Burial. 

A  few  months  passed,  the  Battle  of  Bull  Run  had 
been  fought,  and  Jefferson  Davis  elected  President 
of  the  Southern  Confederacy.  My  father  was  evi- 
dently forgotten,  for  the  time  being,  by  his  neighbors 
who  had  such  artistic  taste,  but  that  insidious  disease 
did  not  forget  to  make  such  inroads  on  his  health  that 
he  had  to  quit  business  and  take  to  his  bed.  I  was 
nearly  six  years  old  then,  and  Aunt  Pallas  had  told 
me  of  "Sandy  Claus,"  as  she  called  him,  and  how  many 
pretty  things  he  brought  good  children.  "Now  Bet- 
sey, when  Christmas  comes,  you  mus'  be  shore  and 
hang  up  yer  stockin'  in  de  parlor  in  de  great  house" 
(another  of  her  names  for  our  dwelling). 

The  kitchen  and  dining  room,  with  a  room  for  her- 
self, was  only  a  few  feet  away  from  the  house,  just 
far  enough  to  keep  out  the  fumes  of  the  cooking,  a 
horror  all  Southerners  have  to  this  day,  of  this  odor 
from  the  kitchen. 

Each  day  I  begged  her  to  tell  me  how  much  nearer 
Christmas  was,  the  time  seemed  so  long  and  I  won- 
dered if  Christmas  ever  would  come.  Aunt  Pallas 
kept  me  informed  of  the  nearness,  and  I  remember 

139 


140  FORG£T-M£-NOTS  OF  THEJ   CIVII,   WAR. 

when  she  said,  "Betsey  only  three  more  nights  and  old 
Sandy '11  shore  be  heah." 

I  went  to  bed  feeling  so  pleased,  but  after  I  had 
been  sleeping  sometime,  Rilia  awoke  me,  and  I,  more 
asleep  than  awake,  was  told  that  my  father  was  going 
on  a  long  journey  and  I  must  go  and  bid  him  goodbye. 
She  carried  me  into  father's  room;  standing  around 
his  bedside  were  all  my  brothers  and  sisters.  My  poor 
mother,  kneeling  at  the  head  sobbing,  but  hushed  as 
soon  as  I  was  taken  in  the  room. 

Rilia  held  me  so  that  my  father  clasped  me  in  his 
arms  and,  folding  me  to  his  heart,  gasped  "God  bless 
my  baby."  I  kissed  him  and  gave  him  a  little  hug.  I 
said  "Goodbye  father,  bring  me  a  pretty  when  you 
come  back."  Amid  sobs  from  the  family  I  was  put 
back  to  sleep  in  my  little  trundle-bed. 

The  next  morning  I  was  dressed  by  my  sisters  and 
sent  out  to  the  kitchen  to  Aunt  Pallas.  The  mo- 
ment I  saw  her,  I  began,  "How  long  before  Sandy 
Claus  comes?"  "Tomorrow  night  honey,  but  laws  a 
massey  on  my  soul  Sandy  Claus  has  done  and  died 
this  night,  and  he'll  never  come  back  heah  again  to 
put  candy  and  oranges  in  yer  stockin',  poah  little  Bet- 
sey," and  here  she  began  to  wipe  her  eyes.  I  remem- 
bered she  often  told  me  I  could  not  do  a  thing  and 
then  she  would  change  her  mind  and  let  me  do  it 
and  I  felt  sure  she  was  not  going  to  let  Sandy  Claus 
stay  dead,  and  not  fill  my  stocking,  and  felt  so  cer- 
tain I  did  not  even  think  very  long  of  what  she  had 
said. 

That  day  I  was  not  permitted  to  go  in  the  "great 


my  father's  death  and  burial.  141 

house"  at  all,  but  the  family  would  come  out  and  look 
at  me,  take  me  in  their  arms  and  say  "Poor  little 
Bettie"  or  "poor  little  Laura."  When  I  saw  my  mother 
again  she  was  dressed  in  black  and  so  were  my  sis- 
ters. I  had  forgotten  about  the  night  before  and  bid- 
ding goodbye  to  my  father,  when  mother  said,  "You 
poor  little  darling,  your  father  has  gone  to  heaven, 
and  you  must  be  a  good  little  girl  if  you  ever  want  to 
see  him  again."  I  thought  in  my  childish  way  that 
heaven  was  a  little  farther  away  than  Raleigh  and  I 
must  be  very  good. 

The  day  and  night  passed,  another  day  dawned  and 
I  well  remembered  that  was  the  night  to  hang  up  my 
stocking  for  good  old  Santa  Claus  to  fill.  Rather  than 
Aunt  Pallas  should  discourage  me  about  his  being 
dead,  a  thing  I  did  not  understand,  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  keep  quiet  on  the  subject,  but  when  night  came  to 
hang  up  the  stocking  where  she  told  me  in  the  "great 
house."  At  the  time  the  family  had  gone  out  to  sup- 
per I  took  my  little  stocking  and  quietly  opened  the 
parlor  door  and  slipped  into  the  room,  as  I  remem- 
bered Aunt  Pallas  had  told  me  to  do,  and  there  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor,  on  something  like  chairs,  was 
a  big  black  box,  with  candles  burning  at  the  head  and 
foot.  I  was  so  frightened  of  this  scary  looking  thing, 
my  little  knees  were  shaking  so  I  could  hardly  pass 
this  black  "bogy"  and  reach  the  fire  place  and  the 
hook  that  Aunt  Pallas  said  was  to  hold  the  stocking. 
I  suddenly  remembered  she  had  always  told  me  that 
"hants"  had  been  seen  in  many  places,  and  they  had 
always  been  "big  white  things"  or  "big  black  things." 


142  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

Instantly  I  was  seized  with  the  thought  that  this  was 
a  "hant"  sure  enough,  as  Aunt  Pallas  would  say,  but 
there  was  no  time  to  lose,  for  I  must  hang  up  that 
stocking.  I  had  waited  so  long  for  the  time  to  come, 
and  now  that  it  was  here  I  just  wouldn't  be  afraid 
of  a  "hant,"  and  didn't  my  mother  say  for  me  to  be 
"good,"  and  that  meant  not  to  cry,  as  I  would  surely 
do  if  I  kept  so  scared  of  a  "hant."  Grasping  my 
stocking  tightly  I  ran  around  the  big  black  box  and 
hung  it  up,  feeling  the  cold  chills  creeping  over  me. 
I  ran  quickly  by  the  "hant,"  and  closing  the  door  ran 
out  into  the  kitchen  shaking  with  fright. 

"Why  Betsey  how  white  you  are  chile,  come  along 
and  let  Aunt  give  you  some  supper  and  put  you  to 
bed."  Two  or  three  times  that  night  I  awoke  scream- 
ing at  the  "big  black  bogy." 

When  morning  came  I  was  dressed  in  a  Sunday 
frock,  for  Rilia  said  I  was  going  to  the  funeral.  As 
I  didn't  know  what  that  meant  I  wasn't  bothered  ex- 
cept to  wonder  if  my  stocking  was  full  and  if  that 
"big  black  hant"  was  in  the  front  room  or  not.  I 
started  to  peep  in  but  saw  so  many  men  doing  some- 
thing to  this  black  box  and  putting  it  in  another,  I 
had  no  time  to  look  for  the  coveted  stocking,  for  they 
closed  the  door;  then  after  breakfast  I  ran  back  and 
saw  the  box  and  "black  bogy"  were  all  out  and  gone. 
I  ran  to  the  fireplace  and  found  the  poor  little  stock- 
ing laying  empty  on  the  hearth,  where  in  my  fright 
the  night  before  it  must  have  fallen.  Picking  it  up 
I  began  to  weep  as  if  my  heart  was  broken,  and  when 
asked  by  Nealie,  who  ran  to  see  what  was  the  mat- 


MY    FATHER'S   D^ATH    AND   BURIAL.  143 

ter  with  me,  I  cried  aloud  in  my  deep  despair,  that 
"Sandy  Claus"  had  died  and  never  put  anything  in 
my  stocking.  My  mother  and  sisters  hearing  this 
wail  of  sorrow,  instead  of  trying  to  pacify  me,  as 
they  used  to  do,  joined  in  with  me  and  we  all  wept 
so  long  and  loud  that  I  hushed  in  sheer  surprise. 

While  this  was  happening  to  us  I  was  taken  out  by 
Aunt  Pallas,  dressed  in  warm  clothes  and  wraps,  and 
together  we  went  in  the  barouche  that  took  us  for 
a  long  drive,  till  I  cried  again  because  "Sandy  Claus" 
didn't  put  anything  in  my  stocking,  then  fell  asleep. 
When  I  awoke  we  were  following  that  big  black  box 
again  in  an  orchard,  with  the  apples  shrivelled  on  the 
ground.  At  last  we  came  to  a  place  where  everybody 
stopped  and  even  the  big  box  stopped,  then  men  began 
to  let  it  down  in  a  hole,  and  taking  spades,  the 
clay  and  dirt  was  put  back  and  a  man  dressed  in  black 
was  talking  and  everybody  was  crying.  I  began  to 
think  that  "Sandy  Claus"  was  dead  to  them  too,  and 
would  never  fill  my  stocking,  so  I  set  up  another  wail 
that  made  Aunt  take  me  back  to  the  barouche  and 
get  me  something  to  eat,  and  then  the  people  walking 
and  driving  started  back  again. 

When  I  reached  home  Rilia,  my  half  sister,  said, 
"You  poor  little  thing,  to  hang  up  your  stocking  and 
not  get  a  thing.  Tell  me  when  and  where  you  hung 
it."  I  told  her  as  it  happened  to  me  and  what  Aunt 
said  about  Sandy  Claus  being  dead.  "Honey  you 
hang  it  up  again  tonight,  just  to  show  Pallas  that  he 
is  not  dead.  I  just  bet  anything  you  get  that  little 
stocking  filled  tonight."     I  said,  "O  sister  you  know 


144  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OE  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

how  to  bring  old  Sandy  Claus  back  again,  don't  you?" 
"Yes,  I  do,  and  I  will,  too." 

That  night  I  was  tired  and  went  to  bed  early,  but  I 
did  not  forget  to  hang  up  the  stocking  again.  Rilia 
helped  me  and  I  hung  it  in  my  mother's  room.  The 
next  morning  I  was  called  by  sister  Rilia,  "Get  up 
Bettie  and  see  what  Santa  Claus  has  brought  you." 
There  staring  at  me  with  black  beady  eyes,  was  a 
lovely  rag  doll  and  a  lot  of  candy,  oranges  and  peanuts 
in  a  box  and  a  piece  of  silver  money  in  the  toe  of 
the  stocking.  O  what  happiness  to  know  that  Santa 
Claus  still  lived  and  loved  me !  Even  now  I  bless  that 
half  sister  for  the  deed  that  gave  me  back  my  hope 
and  faith  in  dear  old  Santa  Claus,  though  I  never  for- 
get on  Christmas  day  that  long  ride  and  the  walk 
through  the  orchard  and  seeing  the  large  crowd  of 
men  standing  bare  headed  while  the  big  black  box 
was  let  down  into  that  hole  and  filled  with  clay.  There 
steals  a  sadness  over  me  despite  the  long  years  that 
have  passed,  that  I  cannot  shake  off,  even  when  I  see 
my  little  grand  children  happy  around  my  knee. 

Three  years  after  moving  to  Clayton,  our  family 
became  so  small  that  even  Aunt  Pallas  was  lonesome 
and  wanted  the  children  back  again,  even  if  the  work 
was  harder  on  her.  The  older  ones  had  married  and 
settled  in  different  places,  and  only  the  two  youngest 
of  my  half  brothers  remained  at  home  with  my  mother 
and  her  three  children.  My  half  sister,  Rilia,  had 
married  a  man  from  Boston,  who  located  in  Raleigh, 
where  he  was  engaged  in  the  manufacture  of  spurs, 
bridles,  bits,  etc.,  for  the  Confederate  army.     Rilia 


my  father's  death  and  buriae.  145 

whom  I  loved  as  my  own,  was  the  sweetest  and  best 
sister  a  girl  ever  had.  She  was  unselfish  to  a  fault, 
besides  being  the  "funny"  one  in  the  family.  Her 
talent  for  mimicry  was  worthy  of  cultivation.  If  I 
was  cross  or  irritable,  she  knew  how  to  put  me  in  a 
good  humor  "by  taking  me  off"  as  she  expressed  it. 
She  had  no  marks  of  beauty  for  she  never  lost  the 
Hinton  likeness.  Her  droll  and  almost  comical  expres- 
sion gave  her  face  a  pleasant  look  and  while  I  used  to 
sit  and  admire  Nealie  on  account  of  her  beauty,  I 
would  sit  fascinated  by  Rilia's  drollery.  Oh  how  I 
loved  them  both,  but  for  very  different  reasons,  and 
when  Rilia  married  I  was  as  lonesome  for  her  as  when 
Nealie  became  the  happy  bride  of  her  soldier  sweet- 
heart. 

Angel  of  charity,  who,  from  above, 

Comest  to  dwell  a  pilgrim  here; 
Thy  voice  is  music,  thy  smile  is  love, 

And  pity's  soul  is  in  thy  tear. 
When  on  the  shrine  of  God  were  laid 

First  fruits  of  all  most  good  and  fair, 
That  ever  bloomed  in  Eden's  shade, 

Thine  was  the  holiest  offering  there. 

— Thomas  Moobe. 


Some  murmur,  when  their  sky  is  clear 

And   wholly   bright   to   view, 
If  one  small  speck  of  dark  appear 

In  their  great  heaven  of  blue. 
And  some  with  thankful  love  are  filled, 

If  but  one  streak  of  light, 
One  ray  of  God's  good  mercy  gild 

The  darkness  of  their  night. 

— Archbishop  Trench. 


CHAPTER  X. 
How  the  Sheriff  Swindled  My  Mother. 

The  year  following  my  father's  death  was  fraught 
with  much  trouble  for  my  poor  mother.  There  were 
some  irregularities  in  his  will,  and  the  war  having 
taken  away  almost  all  the  men  of  the  town,  left  her  in 
dire  need  of  legal  advice,  but  the  fact  that  she  had 
no  money  to  spend  without  getting  value  received 
caused  the  farm  of  "White  Oaks"  to  be  lost  to  the  fam- 
ily. There  were  three  hundred  acres  of  land  that  had 
become  valuable  for  cotton  raising,  that  passed  out 
of  the  family  for  want  of  some  one  to  advise 
my  mother. 

It  seems  that  father,  in  the  kindness  of  his  heart, 
had  stood  security  for  a  friend,  and  as  almost  always 
happens,  he  was  the  one  to  pay.  This  land 
was  to  be  sold  to  pay  his  "just  debts."  The  law  re- 
quired the  sheriff  to  advertise  it  in  three  conspicuous 
places  in  the  county,  the  Court  House,  the  cross-roads, 
and  the  town.  The  sheriff  was  a  man  who  was  anxious 
to  "get  rich  quick,"  and  taking  advantage  of  the 
absence  of  legal  talent  and  my  mother's  ignorance  of 
such  things,  did  not  post  the  notice  as  required  by 
law,  for  no  one  ever  saw  it  if  he  did. 

While  the  great  battle  of  Bull  Run  was  being 
147 


148  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVIE  WAR. 

planned  and  fought  this  officer  of  the  law  went  to 
"White  Oaks,"  put  up  the  land  for  sale  and  had  his 
son  buy  it  for  himself.  When  my  mother  learned  of 
this  it  was  too  late,  and  she  was  afraid  to  take  her 
good  money  to  recover  the  farm,  and  fearing  the  loss 
of  all,  gave  it  up  entirely. 

The  mercantile  business  and  its  good-will  were  sold 
for  a  song,  because  of  the  scarcity  of  men  to  run  it, 
and  consequently  that  was  sacrificed  too. 

The  stock,  the  home  and  contents  were  also  sold 
at  auction.  My  mother  had  so  much  sentiment,  she 
bought  all  the  chickens  and  cows;  and  "Gofar,"  our 
family  horse,  was  put  up  for  sale  too,  and  last  of  all 
Aunt  Pallas. 

There  were  few  mean  enough  to  bid  against  a 
widow  who  would  have  a  hard  struggle  to  support  her 
three  little  children.  How  I  dreaded  to  see  Aunt 
Pallas  ordered  on  the  block.  I  held  on  to  her,  dear, 
faithful  soul,  till  the  auctioneer  began  his  cries.  He 
told  what  a  trustworthy  servant  she  was,  and  her  good 
points  he  dwelt  on,  until  I  feared  for  her  being  left  to 
us,  and  then  he  began  "How  much  is  bid  for  Pallas  ?" 
There  was  a  dead  silence,  for  ages,  it  seemed  to  me, 
when  we  children  all  weeping  together  heard  my 
mother's  voice  filled  with  sobs,  answer  "Five  hundred 
dollars,"  then  again  the  auctioneer  cried  "Five  hun- 
dred dollars  is  too  cheap  for  Pallas,  a  good  cook,  a 
good  nurse,  a  cornfield  hand,  a  seamstress,  a  good 
weaver,  and  there  is  not  much  of  anything  that  she 
cannot  do.  How  much  is  bid  for  Pallas?"  A  silence 
of  a  few  seconds,  but  years  it  seemed  to  us;  no  one 


how  the  sheriff  swindled  my  mother.       149 

raised  a  voice,  and  the  auctioneer  continued  "Five 
hundred,  going!  going!  gone!  to  Mrs.  Lee."  How 
we  all  wept  for  joy  and  I  hugged  her  neck  so  tight 
I  nearly  choked  her  when  she  stepped  off  the  block. 
Of  course  "Gofar"  was  such  a  pet  we  could  not  bear 
to  let  him  go,  and  by  the  time  the  sale  was  over  my 
poor  mother  had  bought  about  six  thousand  dollars' 
worth,  including  the  different  lots  around  town  that 
father  had  owned. 

Her  surprise  was  great  at  her  boldness  in  buying 
all  these  things  at  such  a  time  as  the  South  was  begin- 
ning to  experience.  At  supper  that  night,  when  she 
was  telling  of  this  amount  that  seemed  like  a  large 
fortune  to  her,  she  exclaimed,  "How  in  the  world  will 
I  ever  manage  to  pay  the  four  thousand  dollars?"  (She 
still  had  managed  to  keep  the  two  thousand  that  she 
had  before  her  marriage.)  "The  Lawd  will  help  you 
Miss  Candace,  'cause  you  were  shore  trying  to  do  your 
duty."  "Well  I  know  what  I  am  going  to  try  to  do, 
go  to  Raleigh  and  get  sewing  for  the  soldiers  from  the 
Commissary  Department,  they  are  paying  good  prices 
I  hear,  and  there  is  plenty  of  work  to  be  had.  I  shall 
go  tomorrow  and  see  what  may  be  done  about  it." 

"There,  mother,  I  knew  you  would  pay  for  Aunt 
and  Gofar"  I  cried. 

"My  child,  you  have  yet  to  learn  there  is  a  great 
deal  of  difference  between  talking  and  paying,  'talk 
is  cheap,'  but  it  takes  money  to  pay  debts."  The  next 
day  Bob  was  ordered  to  hitch  "Gofar"  to  the  buggy 
and  drive  my  mother  to  the  "City  of  Oaks."  An  old 
man,  Alvin  Johnson,  was  helping  put  the  harness  on 


150  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

the  horse,  I  was  sitting  in  the  buggy  watching  the  old 
man  adjust  the  parts  when  he  suddenly  called  out, 
"Bob  you  hold  his  head  while  I  thread  his  tail." 

They  drove  to  Raleigh,  about  fifteen  miles  distant. 
My  mother  gave  the  credentials  necessary  and  was 
given  one  hundred  soldiers'  jackets  to  make  for  our 
soldiers.  She  and  Nealie  began  sewing  on  them  the 
next  day,  and  so  they  continued  to  do  through  the 
four  long  years  of  the  war. 

Once  when  Nealie  had  been  up  to  Raleigh  to  get 
some  more  work  from  the  Commissary  De- 
partment, she  came  to  the  station  to  return 
home  she  found  an  uncle  of  ours  on  the  train. 
He  had  been  to  the  hospital  at  Weldon  to  see  his 
son  who  had  been  wounded.  Uncle  was  sick  him- 
self all  the  way  home,  and  Nealie  sat  by  him  and  tried 
to  cheer  him.  On  reaching  home,  the  next  morning, 
he  said,  "Candace,  let  Bob  take  me  home  in  the  buggy, 
I  am  so  sick  I  can't  walk." 

My  mother  replied,  "Yes,  you  have  a  hot  fever."  So 
he  was  sent  home,  and  after  reaching  there  a  physician 
was  called  and  found  him  breaking  out  with  the  small- 
pox. Bob  drove  frantically  back  home,  and  when 
he  told  my  mother  and  Nealie  they  nearly  fainted, 
especially  poor  little  Nealie,  thinking  that  perhaps  her 
beautiful  face  might  be  marked  forever  by  that  dread- 
ful disease.  We  heard  nothing  but  small-pox  (that 
we  should  all  be  sure  to  catch  it),  from  morning  till 
night.  No  wonder  it  made  such  a  deep  impression  on 
my  sister's  subconsciousness.  My  mother,  so  anx- 
ious, sent  for  Dr.  Robertson,  an  army  physician,  to 


HOW   THi;  SHERIFF  SWINDLED  MY  MOTHER.  151 

tell  her  if  there  was  a  preventive.  "No,  Mrs.  Lee," 
said  he,  "there  is  not.  Think  no  more  about  it,  Miss 
Cornelia,  but  at  the  first  indication  of  indisposition 
on  her  part,  call  me;  I  shall  stay  in  Clayton  for  some 
time  before  returning  to  Goldsboro." 

Still  it  was  hard  to  keep  from  talking  about  what 
might  happen;  we  each  prayed  hard  that  she  might 
escape  that,  the  time  was  about  expired  and  my  mother 
and  sister  were  beginning  to  look  more  hopeful,  when 
one  Saturday  night,  just  two  weeks  since  Nealie  had 
been  with  Uncle,  when  we  all  sat  around  the  fire  in 
mother's  room  and  she  was  telling  us  some  of  the 
incidents  of  her  own  life,  I  saw  my  mother  look 
startled  and  said,  "Cornelia,  what  is  the  matter?" 

"I  feel  sick,  mother,  like  I  had  a  chill."  Mother 
grasped  Bob  and  me,  and  running  to  the  kitchen  with 
us,  said,  "Pallas,  my  child  has  the  small-pox,  take 
care  of  these  babies  for  I  don't  know  when  I  shall 
ever  see  them  again;  maybe  never,  and  clasping  us 
to  her  heart,  with  "God  bless  you,"  ran  back  to  my 
sister.  Finding  her  growing  worse,  she  ran  for  the 
doctor,  who  said,  "The  symptoms  are  much  like  the 
small-pox,  but  don't  give  up  yet,  it  may  be  a  cold  and 
will  soon  pass  off." 

From  that  night  until  the  thirteenth  her  symptoms 
were  greatly  like  it.  We  (Bob  and  I)  were  never  al- 
lowed near  the  house.  Aunt  Pallas  cooked  the  food, 
and  carried  it  to  the  door,  and  there  left  it.  My 
mother  would  come  daily  to  the  window  and  call  to 
us  to  be  good  and  pray  for  Nealie,  who  was  raging 
with  fever  and  pain  in  her  head.     We  were  all  in 


152  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OE  THE   CIVIE  WAR. 

quarantine.  Nobody  came  nearer  than  the  gate,  ex- 
cept the  Doctor.  After  two  weeks,  and  she  still  raved 
with  fever  and  pain  in  her  head,  Dr.  Robertson  called 
in  another  consulting  physician.  They  decided  that 
it  was  not  small-pox,  but  brain  fever.  Still  with 
grateful  hearts  to  God  that  she  did  not  have  small- 
pox, we  were  told  it  was  more  dangerous  still,  and 
that  her  life  hung  by  a  thread.  For  days  she  lay  uncon- 
scious and  still  raving  in  delirium;  but  one  morning 
in  the  third  week  she  awoke  in  her  right  mind,  and 
after  a  long  while  she  was  able  to  be  up,  and  grad- 
ually grew  strong  and  well  again. 


Haste  not!   rest  not!   calmly  wait; 
Meekly  bear  the  storms  of  fate! 
Duty  be  thy  polar  guide;  — 
Do  the  right  whate'er  betide! 
Haste  not!   rest  not!   conflicts  part 
God  shall  crown  thy  work  at  last. 

J.  W.  De  Goethe. 


CHAPTER  XI. 
The  Work  We  All  Did  During  the  War. 

My  poor  mother,  at  intervals,  would  stop  sewing  to 
help  weave  the  cloth  for  our  clothes,  Aunt  Pallas 
usually  finding  time  to  spin  the  cotton.  My  task  was 
given  me  every  day  after  school,  either  to  make  a 
pair  of  linings  for  the  sleeves  of  the  soldiers'  jackets  or 
go  to  the  kitchen  and  help  Aunt  Pallas  spin  the  cotton 
yarn. 

Often  at  school  the  other  children  would  feign  sick- 
ness and  stay  at  home.  I  tried  it  only  two  or  three 
times,  for  as  soon  as  I  reached  home  and  my  mother 
asked  me  a  few  questions,  she  said,  "go  out  and  help 
Aunt  spin  some  yarn  for  your  stockings."  I  hated 
that  above  all  the  other  kinds  of  work,  though  Aunt 
Pallas  said,  "It'll  make  you  graceful,  Betsey,  hold  you' 
head  laik  'big  bugs'  ought  to." 

The  next  day  found  me  bright  and  early  at  school, 
and  the  more  willing  student  I  became  from  the  few 
times  I  tried  to  stay  at  home.  Weaving  was  too  hard 
for  me,  for  my  legs  were  not  long  enough  to  reach 
the  treadles,  but  I  would  watch  my  mother  making 
pretty  plaid  goods  for  my  dresses,  the  pink  dyes  were 
made  from  poke  berries,  and  the  blues  were  dyed  with 
indigo.     How  I  used  to  like  to  help  with  the  dyeing. 

155 


156  FORGET-MS-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

I  didn't  care  for  other  colors  enough  to  know  from 
what  my  mother  made  them. 

There  never  was  such  a  busy  woman  as  she  was, 
and  wanted  us  to  be  busy  too,  from  one  duty  to 
another.  I  had  so  many  yards  of  cotton  yarn  meas- 
ured off  for  me  and  had  a  certain  time  to  knit  it  into 
stockings  for  myself.  The  time  came  when  every 
Southern  woman  wanted  to  show  her  loyalty  to  the 
Southern  cause  by  wearing  everything  home  made,  and 
store  goods  were  tabooed  as  something  entirely  un- 
necessary. 

The  millinery  was  one  of  the  most  difficult  things 
to  make.  Finally  one  of  our  girls  discovered  that  the 
husks  of  corn  made  beautiful  straw  hats  after  being 
soaked  in  water  and  bleached  white  or  dyed  the  color 
preferred.  It  was  plaited  and  sewed  together,  then 
bent  in  shapes  to  suit  the  wearer,  and  odds  and  ends 
would  be  used  to  trim  them  with ;  home-made  flowers. 
Wire  grass  and  palmetto  were  also  woven  and  plaited 
into  pretty  designs,  and  made  up  nicely,  though 
cow  horns  scraped  into  white  shavings,  and  sewed  on 
a  pasteboard  crown,  with  black  velvet  brim,  made  the 
prettiest  turbans.  I  used  to  enjoy  the  time  for  making 
our  hats,  for  my  mother  wanted  us  as  well  dressed 
as  our  neighbors,  and  always  found  time  to  make  our 
clothes  in  the  fashion;  but  the  day  that  Nealie  wore 
a  homespun  of  blue  grey,  with  a  long  Chesterfield  coat, 
every  seam  in  the  long  wrap  corded  with  dark  blue, 
with  a  cow's  horn  turban,  a  snowy  white  with  blue 
velvet  brim,  and  a  bunch  of  red  roses  on  the  side, 
nobody  who  saw  her  would  have  thought  that  evewy 


the;  work  ws  ali,  did  during  the  war.        157 

thread  she  wore  had  been  spun,  woven  and  made  at 
our  home,  except  the  old  velvet  for  the  brim. 

Aunt  Pallas  used  to  make  our  substitute  for  coffee; 
at  first  she  roasted  corn  meal,  a  thing  we  could  not 
bear  to  drink,  then  sweet  potatoes  cut  in  dice  shape 
and  roasted,  which  was  an  improvement,  but  when 
she  tried  roasted  rye,  we  found  it  the  next  best 
thing  to  genuine  coffee. 

Working  from  early  morn  till  sundown,  for  she 
never  would  do  anything  but  knitting  at  night,  my 
mother  paid  all  her  indebtedness  long  before  the  war 
ended.  Having  paid  her  two  thousand  dollars  on  the 
debt,  she  continued  to  pay  quarterly  as  much  as  she 
could  earn  and  spare  from  her  living.  When  the 
war  ended  she  had  several  thousand  dollars  of  Con- 
federate money,  utterly  worthless,  but  as  she  had  paid 
four  thousand  dollars  indebtedness  by  means  of  this 
same  money,  so  worthless  later  on,  we  could  not  help 
but  see  how  much  my  mother  had  accomplished 
with  it. 


Bring  the  good  old  bugle,  boys!  we'll  sing  another  song — 
Sing  it  with  a  spirit  that  will  start  the  world  along — 
Sing  it  as  we  used  to  sing  it,  fifty  thousand  strong, 
While  we  were  marching  thro'  Georgia. 

Hurrah!    hurrah!    we  bring  the  jubilee! 
Hurrah!    hurrah!    the  flag  that  makes  you  free! 
So  we  sang  the  chorus  from  Atlanta  to  the  sea, 
While  we  were  marching  thro'  Georgia. 

— Heney  C.  Woek. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
Sherman's  March  to  Raleigh,  North  Carolina. 

The  next  great  epoch  in  my  life  was  "Sherman's 
march  through  Georgia,"  continued  into  North  Caro- 
lina. We  were  told  every  day  that  he  would  be  there 
in  a  day  or  two,  the  days  became  weeks,  and  he 
did  not  come ;  everything  was  waiting  for  his  coming, 
for  we  knew  it  was  inevitable,  and  then  began  the 
hiding  of  everything  of  any  value,  but  the  children 
and  negroes  were  kept  in  ignorance  as  to  the  where- 
abouts of  the  hidden  effects.  I  am  certain  my  mother 
and  her  neighbors  would  hide  the  things  one  night 
and  take  them  up  the  next  to  find  a  safer  place.  But 
her  real  anxiety  was  for  her  girls.  Many  things  like 
silver  plate  had  been  dropped  in  the  well  or  buried 
beneath  the  floor  of  the  horses'  stalls.  A  trunk  con- 
taining clothing,  my  mother's  wedding  dress,  especially 
to  be  prized,  was  buried  in  a  pine  thicket,  a  mile  or 
two  away  from  town.  Even  faithful  Aunt  Pallas  was 
not  told  where  the  things  were  hidden,  lest  through 
fear  or  threats  she  turn  traitor  at  the  last  minute  and 
tell  the  Yankees  the  hiding  place.  Our  sol- 
diers had  well  nigh  depleted  our  county  of  every- 
thing to  eat,  and  it  was  getting  to  be  the  daily  wish 
that  the   "Yankees  would   come  through,"   as   Aunt 

159 


160  tfORGET-M£-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIL,  WAR. 

Pallas  would  say.  The  battle  of  Avery sboro  was  a 
vivid  reminder  to  us  all  of  what  poor  Walter  had 
written  about  the  battle  of  Spottsylvania  Court  House, 
Virginia.  All  day  long  we  could  hear  the  booming 
of  cannon,  which  meant  death  to  so  many  poor  fellows. 
This  battle  was  fought  between  Gen.  Slocum's  army 
and  General  Joe  Johnston's,  one  of  our  Commanders. 
The  confederates,  however,  were  forced  to  fly,  and 
when  they  passed  our  town  they  were  in  a  mighty 
big  hurry  to  get  away  from  General  Slocum.  They 
tore  down  fences,  railroads,  etc.,  and  when  the  ragged, 
half  starved  fellows  passed  our  house,  they  left  orders 
for  all  the  women  and  children  to  get  between  the 
chimneys.  My  mother  and  sister  had  been  on  the 
porch,  waving  a  last  farewell  to  the  poor  defeated  Con- 
federates who  had  held  out  so  wonderfully  during 
those  days  of  suffering.  They  called  to  them  if  they 
heard  any  skirmishing  to  be  sure  and  seek  a  place  of 
safety,  for  Sherman  would  reach  Clayton  by  eleven 
o'clock  that  morning.  I  was  greatly  disturbed  on 
going  to  my  room  to  find  all  my  frocks  hanging  in  the 
closets,  after  begging  mother  to  hide  them  as  Bettie 
Cox's  mother  had  done  her  things.  I  wondered  where 
I  could  find  a  safe  place,  and  failing  concluded  to  wear 
them  all.  I  managed  to  put  on  four  with  a  large 
new  homespun  for  the  top  dress.  Then  I  went  into 
the  dining  room  and  in  the  drawer  where  the  steel 
knives  and  forks  were  I  found  a  plated  fork ;  thinking 
it  safer  too  on  my  person,  I  tried  to  find  a  place  about 
me  where  I  could  hide  it,  but  could  think  of  no  safe 
place,  only  in  my  stocking,   so  placing  it  with  the 


"General  Sherman  halted  and  asked  in  a  kindly  voice  whether  she 
had  husband  or  sons  in  the  war.'" 


Sherman's  march  to  raleigh.  161 

prongs  turned  out,  I  thought  no  more  about  it  till 
later  in  the  day.  After  a  while  my  mother  bade  us 
get  indoors  between  the  chimneys  as  ordered,  for  now 
and  then  a  stray  minie  ball  came  whizzing  through  the 
trees.  Then  came  the  rear  guard  of  Johnston's  army, 
and  half  starved  as  they  were,  they  still  shouted  "Hur- 
rah for  Jeff  Davis"  and  "We'll  hang  Abe  Lincoln  to 
a  sour  apple  tree."  With  a  wave  of  their  tattered  old 
hats  the  last  of  our  brave  boys  passed  our  house  on 
their  way  to  Raleigh.  While  the  women  and  children 
of  our  little  town  were  left  to  the  mercy  of  the  enemy 
and  Gen.  William  Tecumseh  Sherman.  Such  horrible 
stories  my  mother  had  heard  of  what  might  hap- 
pen to  her  daughters  gave  her  so  much  real  pain,  that 
when  the  last  of  our  boys  had  gone  forever,  her  fea- 
tures, looked  determined  like  they  did  when  she  had 
a  difficult  task  to  do  and  intended  to  do  it.  Such  a 
look  came  over  her  face  as  a  bugle  blast  was  heard 
and  then  burst  upon  our  vision  Sherman's  army.  Our 
soldiers  had  passed  ragged,  barefooted;  words  beggar 
the  description  of  their  real  condition.  Here  coming, 
from  every  direction,  were  men  in  beautiful  blue  and 
new  looking  uniforms,  and  everything  seemed  to  stand 
out  as  silhouettes  against  the  bright  April  sun,  and 
there  mounted  on  his  favorite  charger,  was  Gen.  Wil- 
liam Tecumseh  Sherman,  gorgeous  in  gold  and  blue; 
then  came  the  guard  that  he  ordered  sent  to  protect 
us,  and  such  a  sea  of  faces  that  we  could  not  look  in 
any  direction  that  the  Yankees  were  not,  and  soon 
the  porch  was  filled  with  them  asking  if  there  were 
any  "Johnny  Rebs"  inside.  I  chanced  to  follow  the 
guard  to  see  what  he  intended  doing,  when  he  re- 


162  £0RG3T-ME-N0TS  OF   THE)   CIVIL  WAR. 

marked,  "Say,  Betty  (for  I  had  told  him  my  name  as 
soon  as  I  saw  him),  why  are  you  so  warm?"  He  was 
out  digging  up  some  buried  treasures,  I  said :  "Well,  I 
have  on  five  frocks,  Mr.  Bunting,  and  they  make  me 
very  warm,  for  one  of  them  is  woolen."  He 
replied  "will  you  tell  me  what  you  are  wearing  all 
those  dresses  for  on  such  a  warm  day?"  I  answered, 
"Why,  to  keep  the  Yankees  from  getting  them."  "Oh 
I  see,  well,  let  me  tell  you,  as  long  as  General  Sherman 
sent  me  here  to  guard  your  mother's  house  and  effects, 
I  will  see  that  the  Yankees  don't  get  your  dresses.  Go, 
child,  and  take  them  off."  I  lifted  my  homespun  skirt 
to  show  him  that  I  really  did  have  on  five  dresses, 
when  he  caught  sight  of  something  sticking  out  of 
my  stocking. 

"Well,  please  tell  me  what  that  is  in  your  stocking 
that  sticks  out  like  knitting  needles?" 

"That's  my  fork  I  have  been  eating  with  since  the 
others  were  hid.  I  didn't  want  the  Yankees  to  get 
anything  I  had,  for  I  believe  my  mother  forgot  to  hide 
these  things." 

I  left  him  and  went  into  the  kitchen  and  in  a  few 
minutes  a  Yankee  came  in  holding  a  tin  cup  in  his  hand. 
My  mother  had  just  stepped  in  to  speak  to  Aunt  about 
preparing  supper  when  the  Yankee  spoke,  saying  in  a 
very  rough  way,  "What  in  the  h —  is  this?"  Poor 
mother  looked  so  surprised,  and  said,  "Why  how 
should  I  know?"  "Well,  you  have  got  to  tell  us."  By 
that  time  several  others  came  up.  "I  can't  tell  you 
what  I  don't  know,"  she  replied.  "Yes,  but  you  do 
know,  and  by  gosh  you've  got  to  tell  us,"  he  hissed 
out.     "You've  got  to  drink  some  of  your  poison  you 


Sherman's  march  to  ral^igh.  163 

fixed  for  us."  My  mother  began  to  tremble  and  said 
"What  do  you  want  me  to  take  the  poison  for,  I  have 
never  harmed  you?"  "Well  you  are  trying  to  poison 
us,  aren't  you?  Come  now,  drink  hearty."  Mother 
began  to  shake  as  he  kept  holding  out  the  cup;  she 
took  it  and  said,  "tell  me  where  you  got  it."  "Out 
of  this  jug,  we  found  it  in  there,"  he  said,  pointing 
to  Aunt's  room.  "Oh  if  you  got  it  from  that  place 
I  will  tell  you  that  it  is  French  brandy,"  she  answered. 
"Oh,  no,  no,  it  is  not  the  right  color,  though  it  smells 
like  it,  you  have  put  some  poison  in  it,  if  it  is,"  said 
he,  "and  now  you  shall  drink  some  of  it."  Mother, 
so  helpless,  stood  there,  and  holding  the  cup  in  her 
hand  asked,  "have  you  put  anything  in  it  to  poison  me, 
I  don't  object  to  tasting  it  if  you  have  not  tampered 
with  it."  "Not  on  your  life  would  we  put  poison  in 
anything  that  smells  as  good  as  this,  though  it  does 
look  queer." 

"Well,"  said  my  mother,  "if  you  haven't  put  any- 
thing in  it,  I  will  taste  it,"  for  the  jug  it  was  in  had 
only  held  sorghum,  so  suiting  the  action  to  the  word 
she  put  the  cup  to  her  lips,  just  as  the  guard  made 
his  appearance  and  ran  them  away.  He  scolded  mother 
and  told  her  never  to  have  any  words  with  them 
again,  but  to  call  him  and  he  would  settle  everything. 

General  Sherman  camped  near  our  house  that  night, 
and  early  next  morning  he  was  on  his  way  to  Raleigh, 
but  not  before  he  left  a  warm  spot  in  the  hearts  of 
one  Southern  family  named  Lee.     God  bless  him! 

"Two  knights  in  armor  who  fought  unto  the  death  of  each, 
because  of  their  reading  differently  the  inscription  of  a 
shield.  Bach  was  right,  but  they  read  the  two  different  sides 
of  the  shield." 


What  different  lots  our  stars  accord; 
This  babe  to  be  hailed  and  wooed  as  a  Lord, 
And  that  to  be  shunned  like  a  leper; 
One,  to  the  world's  wine,  honey  and  corn, 
Another,  like  Colchester  native,  born 
To  its  vinegar  only,  and  pepper. 

Thomas  Hood. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
The  "Bummers"  and  "Red  Strings/' 

After  Sherman's  main  army  reached  Raleigh,  "the 
bummers,"  as  they  were  called,  followed  in  a  few  days. 
These  were  the  men  who  pillaged  and  caused  much 
annoyance  to  the  neighborhood,  by  sometimes  com- 
mitting crimes.  They  visited  our  town  in  pairs,  and 
each  home  of  any  pretentions.  They  evidently  thought 
the  people  had  had  time  to  dig  up  their  treasures, 
therefore  it  would  be  easy  to  find  many  valuables, 
which  they  did.  They  searched  our  house  thoroughly, 
even  the  boxes  in  my  playhouse  they  ransacked.  I 
shall  never  forget  how  we,  Nealie  and  I,  kept  hiding 
from  room  to  room,  as  these  brutes  would  go  into 
another. 

After  leaving  the  town  they  stopped  and  raided  the 
home  of  Mr.  Urias  BaucOm,  a  former  slave  owner 
and  stock  raiser.  He  had  made  a  great  deal  of  money 
in  the  business,  and  had  managed  to  convert  it  into 
gold.  It  was  an  open  secret  that  he  had  buried  his 
treasure.  These  "bummers"  had  been  told  the 
story  by  some  of  the  negro  slaves  that  he  had  formerly 
owned.  Going  to  his  home  they  demanded  his  gold; 
he  told  them  they  could  not  get  it,  that  he  had  worked 
hard  for  it  and  would  not  give  it  up.     Whereupon 

165 


166  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE  THE)   CIVII,   WAR. 

they  seized  and  tied  him  hand  and  foot;  then  putting 
a  gag  in  his  mouth,  he  was  left  to  reconsider.  After 
searching  in  vain  they  returned  to  demand  a  second 
time  the  hiding  place  of  his  gold.  He  still  declared 
he  would  never  tell  them;  then  binding  him  again, 
they  took  him  to  a  tree  and  tied  him  up  by  his  thumbs. 
His  wife,  who  was  cooking  and  knew  nothing  of  what 
was  going  on,  hearing  groans,  ran  frantically  out,  be- 
seeching them  to  let  her  husband  go  free.  They  de- 
manded of  her  if  she  knew  where  the  gold  was  hid- 
den, and  she  told  them  "yes,"  whereupon  Mr.  Baucom 
begged  her  not  to  tell,  saying  he'd  as  soon  die  as  to 
lose  his  hard  earned  money  in  his  old  age. 

Some  of  "the  bummers"  went  with  her,  where  they 
found  a  few  old  socks  filled  with  silver  and  a  little 
gold,  but  she  must  have  found  enough  to  satisfy  the 
wretches  for  they  cut  the  rope  and  Mr.  Baucom  was  a 
free  man,  but  not  many  dollars  of  his  hard  earned 
gold  had  they  found,  for  he  well  knew  his  wife  would 
give  away  the  secret  if  his  life  was  in  jeopardy,  and 
he  only  told  her  of  a  small  amount. 

He  had  dug  up  the  county  road  in  front  of  his  house, 
and  taking  his  canvas  bags  of  gold  had  deposited 
them  there  in  the  night  time,  then  filled  the  hole  with 
stone  and  gravel  as  if  the  road  had  never  been  touched. 
This  he  did  weeks  before,  and  Sherman  and  his  whole 
army  marched  over  more  than  fifty  thousand  dollars 
of  buried  treasure  in  gold  on  the  county  road  to  Ral- 
eigh. 

The  years  eighteen  sixty-five  to  sixty-nine  were 
spent  by  the  South  in  recovering  from  the  effects  of 


the;  "bummers"  and  "r£d  strings."  167 

the  war.  The  state  of  North  Carolina  was  among  the 
first  to  recover,  and  our  little  town  was  not  slower 
than  the  others  to  show  marked  signs  of  improvement. 

My  mother's  little  family,  then  not  so  burdensome, 
consisted  of  Nealie,  Bob  and  myself,  the  other  children 
having  married  and  settled  off  in  different  parts  of  the 
state.  Bob,  who  returned  soon  after  the  surrender 
from  the  swamps,  near  Fayetteville,  where  he  had 
taken  our  "Gofar"  with  a  buggy  load  of  things  to 
keep  the  Yankees  from  taking  them,  was  then  large 
enough  with  Aunt  Pallas  help  to  cultivate  the  small 
parcels  of  land,  and  we  were  able  to  hold  our  own  with 
any  of  our  neighbors. 

During  these  days  many  things  happened  "to  try 
men's  souls,"  among  them  was  the  formation  of  a 
society  called  the  "Red  Strings,"  that  even  afforded 
some  amusing  incidents,  one  at  least  I  will  recall. 

One  day  Aunt  Pallas  came  in  and  said,  "laws  a  mas- 
sey,  I  wish  Miss  Candace  you  and  the  chillun  could 
see  dem  'Red  things'  a  trying  to  drill,  he!  he!  he!" 
Here  she  laughed  so  immoderately  that  we  could  not 
help  but  join  her,  though  not  knowing  what  she  was 
laughing  at.  She  suddenly  stopped  and  burst  out 
again,  "laws,  dem  prazy  niggahs  would  surely  make 
a  doag  laugh,  he !  he !  he !"  Bob  could  wait  no  longer, 
and  cried  out,  "shut  up  Aunt  and  tell  us  what  you 
mean  by  'Red  Strings."  "Why,  don't  you  know,  honey, 
dat  Mr.  Roby  has  been  around  invitin'  all  de  niggahs 
to  meet  at  Roxboro,  men  and  women,  too,  mind  what 
I'm  tellin'  ye,  to  jine  some  sort  of  a  sassiety,  dat  we 
colored  people  are  'quested  to  be  membahs  of,  he!  he! 


168  FORGET-MS-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVH,  WAR. 

he!  what  is  going  to  make  a  'provement  on  us.'  I 
just  says  'yes  sah,  Mr.  Roby,  I  heahs  what  you  say, 
but  I'm  too  old  to  go  and  jine  any  sassiety  now.' 
Still  chillun,  I  was  mos'  a  dyin'  with  scurosity  to  see 
what  dey  was  a  doin',  anyhow,  an  I  went  along  down 
to  Liza's  house,  and  saw  all  de  free  niggahs  in  de 
county  a  marchin'.  De  drum  was  a  beatin'  and  de  fife 
a  tootin'  and  den  Mr.  Roby  said  'fall  in'  and  shore 
nuff,  they  started  two  and  two  togedder  a  sayin'  'hep, 
hep,  hep.'  Bimeby  Mr.  Roby  said  'forward  march,' 
and  I'll  be  seized  by  cats  if  all  dem  niggahs  didn't 
start  in  to  try  to  drill,  he!  he!  he!  sorta  laik  soldiers. 
Shore  thing  he  kept  dem  niggahs  steppin'  laik  a 
chicken  on  a  hot  griddle  for  a  while,  den  he  up  and 
says  'close  up,'  and  would  you  believe  it  chillun,  every 
last  niggah  man  and  woman  in  dat  company — he !  he ! 
he! — began  to  pull  up  dere  close,  shore  nuff.  I  sur- 
tingly  did  nearly  splode  with  laffin  at  'em."  At  this 
we  all  joined  in. 

"I  better  be  keerful  too  how  I  goes  a  laffin'  at  folks 
'cause  I  may  get  that  pain  again.  Oh,  bless  de  Lawd 
how  me  old  back  do  ache." 


Then  the  futt  and  the  dthragoons 

In  squadthrons  and  platoons, 

With  their  music  playing  chimes  down  upon  us  bore; 

And  they  bate  the  rattatoo, 

And  ended  the  shalvo  on  the  Shannon  shore. 

— WlLHEIM    MAKELIME    THACKERY. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  "Ku  Klux  Klan." 

About  the  time  the  "Ku  Klux  Klan"  made  their 
appearance,  I  remember  one  morning  at  the  break- 
fast table  Aunt  Pallas  came  in  with  a  plate  of  hot  bis- 
cuits, her  eyes  bulging  and  her  whole  frame  shaking, 
"Miss  Candace,  I  suttinly  saw  'ghostes'  or  'hants'  last 
night." 

"Now,  Pallas,  what  do  you  mean  by  such  talk?" 
Though  noting  her  agitation  my  mother  repeated, 
"What  is  the  matter?" 

"I  shore  saw  'ghostes'  last  night.  Brother  Dannyell 
had  been  to  see  me  and  we  kept  a  settin'  talkin'  till 
I  thought  I  heard  a  chicken  crowin'  fer  day.  We  was 
a  talkin'  about  Mars  Charles  and  de  good  old  days, 
when  Bro.  Dannyell  'lowed  he'd  be  gwine  along  home. 
I  jest  walked  to  the  front  gate  wid  him,  when  dere  riz 
up  afore  us  a  whole  passell  of  'ghostes'  and  'hants,'  a 
ridin'  laik  dey  was  on  hoss  back.  Hit's  de  truth — I 
declare  pint  blank.  Dey  was  so  tall,  chillun,  dey  jest 
riz  plum  up  to  de  sky  and  laik  a  skeleton  wid  a  fire 
a  burning  in  its  head,  and  it  was  all  wrapped  in  some- 
thing like  white  sheets,  reachin'  clear  to  the  ground. 
I  jest  raised  my  voice  and  said  'Praise  de  Lawd, 
Brother  Dannyell,  dis  ole  niggah's  time  have  come,' 

171 


172  FORG£T-M£-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVII,   WAR. 

when  a  voice  from  the  grave  laik  said,  'What  are  you 
a  doin'  up  till  dis  time  of  night  Pallas  Lee,  talkin' 
to  dat  man?'  Folkses  I'm  tellin  nuffin  but  the  truf, 
my  ole  knees  wuz  a  shakin'  and  I  jes  drapped  down 
and  begun  to  pray.  Laws  a  massey  Mars  Jesus,  fur- 
give  me  for  being  up  talkin'  to  my  poor  old  brudder 
Dannyell  till  dis  time  o'  night  and  I'll  promise  Mr. 
Ghostes'  or  'hants'  nevah  to  do  so  no  more." 

"Now  Pallas,"  dat  voice  repeated  again,  "are  you 
shore  dat  man  is  your  brudder,  or  is  ye  jes  tellin' 
me  lies?  Be  keerful  Pallas  Lee  what  ye  tells  me"  dat 
same  voice  'sclaimed. 

"Chilluns,  ye  orter  heard  me  pleadin'  for  me  life." 

"Yes,  Master  Ghosts,  I  am  shore  tellin'  ye  de  gospel 
truf.  I  neveh  'lows  no  niggahs  roun  heah  but  my  ole 
brudder  Dannyell,  an  Aunt  Liza,  cause  I  don't  laik 
to  disturb  my  Missus  and  dem  chillun  what  I  loves 
so  much,  besides  Mister  Ghost  all  dese  niggahs  round 
heah  b'long  to  de  'Red  String  Sassiety.' 

"Very  well,  Pallas  Lee,  go  to  your  bed  and  you 
Dannyell  go  to  your  home,  but  'member  tomorrow  to 
tell  all  your  'Red  String'  friends  to  look  out,  for  de  Klu 
Klux  are  out  riding  dis  county  up  and  down  to  catch 
niggahs  dat  are  in  mischief."  "I  ain't  nevah  heard  tell 
of  no  such  name  before  as  'Klu  Klux.'  Yaas  Ma'am, 
day  say  dat  to  me — as  sartin'  as  I  am  a  standin'  heah." 

"Pallas,  I  am  sure  you  dreamed  that,  for  it  sounds 
just  like  your  ghost  stories  and  you  know  I  don't 
want  these  children  to  hear  such  foolishness.  Of 
course  they  know  you  tell  them  like  fairy  tales  and 
so  they  don't  believe  you  are  telling  the  truth." 


THE  "KU   KIvUX   KLAN."  173 

"Miss  Candace,  I  hope  I  may  drap  stone  dead  if  I 
ain't  tellin'  ye  de  truf,  laws,  de  goose  bumps  jes  nasch- 
erally  raise  on  me  to  even  think  about  it  now,"  declared 
Aunt  in  the  most  solemn  tones. 

My  mother  not  wishing  to  hear  more  about  such 
monstrous  dreams,  ordered  her  to  say  no  more  about 
it.  Later  in  the  day  one  of  the  neighbors  dropped  in 
and  told  us  even  a  more  marvelous  tale. 

This  lady  whose  husband,  I  suppose  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Ku  Klux  Klan,  told  of  a  company  of  gro- 
tesque figures  that  had  been  seen  the  night  before, 
mounted  on  horseback,  appearing  like  the  heads  of 
skeletons  illuminated,  their  grinning  teeth  and  horrible 
looking  sockets  glittering  with  lights  shining  out  from 
a  white  robe  that  enveloped  both  horse  and  rider. 
She  related  further  that  a  negro,  who  had  made  threats 
against  some  of  the  white  people  had  been  found, 
killed  and  quartered  and  hung  from  Neuse  river 
bridge,  with  a  notice  of  warning  to  the  other  negroes 
and  "Red  Stringers." 

However,  that  cured  our  county  of  such  lawlessness 
with  the  exception  of  one  more  horrible  case,  so  that 
the  Society  of  Red  Strings  disbanded  and  never  drilled 
again. 

The  other  case  I  recall  was  one  of  the  most  horrible 
crimes  that  came  to  my  knowledge  during  those  days 
and  as  a  little  child  it  made  such  a  deep  impression, 
I  can  still  see  a  good  reason,  why  the  "Ku  Klux  Klan" 
was  organized. 

My  mother  and  sister  Nealie  were  invited  to  spend 
a  few  days  in  the  country.     Shortly  after  reaching 


174  ]?ORG£T-M£-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR. 

Mrs.  Gardner's  home  a  messenger  on  horseback  dashed 
up  and  told  them  an  assault  and  murder  had  been  com- 
mitted by  a  young  negro  fellow  on  Kitty  Austin,  the 
sixteen  year  old  daughter  of  her  nearest  neighbor. 
These  women  wasted  no  time  in  reaching  the  scene 
and  the  Coroner  was  requested  to  hold  an  inquest  on 
the  body.  The  few  soldiers  that  were  left  to  the 
South  had  not  yet  returned  to  their  homes,  so  the 
Coroner  ordered  a  jury  of  women  for  the  preliminary 
trial.  Twelve  representative  women  were  selected  as 
jurors — my  mother  and  her  friends  among  them. 
Mother  was  chosen  as  forewoman  when  the  trial  came 
off.  They  proved  this  negro  was  found  sitting  on 
a  fence  with  a  knife  covered  with  blood  in  his  hand 
and  eating  an  apple.  The  body  of  the  girl  only  a 
few  feet  distant  in  the  orchard  where  she  had  been 
sent  by  her  mother  to  gather  fruit  for  dinner  was  lying 
with  her  throat  cut  from  ear  to  ear. 

These  women  jurors  found  the  negro  guilty  of 
assault  and  murder  and  he  was  ordered  sent  to  the 
county  jail  there  to  await  final  trial,  but  the  Court 
records  have  never  shown  that  such  a  trial  was  held, 
for  it  was  whispered  that  the  lynch  law  took  him  in 
hand  and  the  sheriff  was  never  permitted  to  reach  the 
jail  with  the  prisoner  or  else  the  Ku  Klux  Klan  sum- 
marily disposed  of  him. 

That  horrible  crime  was  committed  on  the  day  after 
President  Lincoln  had  been  assassinated,  April  15th, 
by  John  Wilkes  Booth.  But  in  our  town  and  county 
there  were  more  tears  shed  that  day  for  Kitty  Austin 
than  for  the  martyred  President. 


Such  was  he,  our  Martyr-Chief, 

Whom  late  the  nation  he  had  led, 
With  ashes  on  her  head, 

Wept  with  the  passion  of  an  angry  grief; 
Forgive  me,  if  from  present  things  I  turn 

To  speak  what  in  my  heart  will  burn, 
And  hang  my  wreath  on  his  world  honored  urn. 

Nature  they  say  doth  dote 
And  cannot  make  a  man 

Save  on  some  worn-out  plan, 
Repeating  as  by  rote: 

For  him  her  Old  World  moulds  aside  she  threw, 
And  choosing  sweet  clay  from  the  breast 

Of  the  unexhausted  West, 
With  stuff  untainted  shaped  a  hero  new, 

Wise,  steadfast  in  the  strength  of  God  and  true. 

— James  Russell  Lowell. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
How  I  First  Met  "Uncle  Ned." 

The  close  of  the  Civil  War  left  in  its  wake  a  trail 
of  poverty  and  great  suffering  throughout  the  fair 
Southland.  When  peace  was  declared  hunger  still 
stalked  abroad  in  the  land  and  side  by  side  with  hun- 
ger walked  pride,  and  together  they  knocked  at  the 
door  of  the  once  wealthy  planter  as  well  as  at  the  door 
of  the  poor  tenant.  There  was  little  money  in  circu- 
lation at  this  time  and  few  ways  open  to  earn  any. 
Poverty  reigned  king  and  was  a  cruel  tyrant  to  his 
subjects,  and  they  were  legion. 

Three  months  after  the  surrender  of  General  Rob- 
ert E.  Lee,  my  mother  and  her  three  children  were  in 
about  as  needy  circumstances  as  one  would  care  to  be, 
though  our  neighbors  were,  many  of  them,  much 
worse  off  than  we.  Such  being  the  case  it  was  more 
than  difficult  to  supply  our  necessities,  for  the  avenues 
open  to  a  woman  struggling  to  make  a  living  in  the 
village  where  we  lived  were  only  such  as  teaching 
and  sewing.  The  girls  in  almost  every  home  had 
been  taught  to  sew,  that  is,  to  embroider  and  do  fancy 
work,  but  there  was  no  demand  for  such  work  then, 
and  consequently  nothing  could  be  done  in  that  line. 
However,  "where  there's  a  will  there's  a  way,"  and 

177 


178  £ORGET-M£-NOTS   OF  TH£   CIVIL  WAR. 

when  our  soldiers  came  back  home,  to  find  themselves 
without  clothes  except  the  uniform  of  gray,  often  tat- 
tered and  torn  to  rags  though  always  dearly  beloved, 
my  mother  bethought  herself  of  a  plan  to  make  a  little 
money  for  herself  and  to  help  the  poor  soldiers.  She 
decided  to  make  coats,  vests  and  trousers  for  them 
and  as  they  had  no  money  to  pay  her  then,  to  wait 
until  the  crops  were  harvested  and  take  such  produce 
as  her  little  family  could  use  in  the  meantime.  This 
meant  waiting  a  long  time,  for  few  soldiers  could  even 
get  a  start  that  year. 

My  sister,  the  oldest  of  the  children,  at  that  time 
was  about  sixteen,  and  still  continued  to  help  mother 
with  the  sewing.  The  work  was  slow  coming  in  and 
very  slow  going  out.  Each  garment  was  a  lesson  in 
tailored  work  for  mother  and  sister  to  learn  on,  but 
the  prices  charged  were  so  small  that  it  was  little 
more  than  starvation  wages  they  were  working  so 
hard  to  make.  It  took  them  fully  two  weeks  to  make 
a  suit  of  clothes,  so  it  needs  must  take  a  long  time 
to  do  more  than  keep  the  cruel  despot,  hunger,  from 
entering  ruthlessly  into  this  little  household.  We, 
children,  were  not  looking  for  dress  or  luxuries;  in- 
deed, we  were  daily  impressed  by  the  fact  that  our 
mother  was  doing  all  she  could  do  for  us  and  we  were 
satisfied.  Many  and  many  times  have  we  seen  her 
sit  and  weep  because  we  did  not  have  the  things  she 
wanted  us  to  have  but  could  not  afford  to  get  for  us, 
but  we  never  dared  complain  at  our  lot,  because  mother 
always  felt  so  keenly  our  poverty, — besides,  we  were 
better  off  than  many  of  our  neighbors,  for  our  garden 


'Uncle  Ned." 


HOW   I   FIRST   M£T   "UNCXE)   N£D."  179 

and  fruit  trees  were  in  a  flourishing  condition  and  we 
had  plenty  fruit  and  vegetables  and  some  to  spare. 
Meat,  however,  was  a  scarce  commodity  and  one  that 
our  soldiers  had  relieved  us  of,  for,  what  General 
Wheeler's  cavalry  left,  General  Johnston's  men  fin- 
ished up,  as  no  one  around  our  village  could  resist  the 
appeal  of  a  hungry  Confederate  soldier,  and  our  meat 
was  eaten  up  by  them  months  before  the  Yankee  army 
came  through  our  town.  A  piece  of  meat  was  such 
a  rarity  that  it  was  either  given  to  us  in  small  portions 
or  else  it  was  cooked  the  second  time  with  vegetables 
to  give  them  a  seasoning.  I  never  liked  it  and  only 
ate  it  because  mother  said  "children  always  looked 
putty-colored  when  they  never  ate  meat."  Not  want- 
ing to  look  putty-colored,  I  ate  it.  I  had  a  sweet  tooth, 
though,  and  loved  candy  and  sugar  and  the  many  good 
things  made  with  sugar ;  but,  alas,  candy  was  clear  out 
of  reach  and  the  money  to  buy  it  was  hopelessly  be- 
yond our  power  of  obtaining,  so  patience  was  instilled 
daily  into  our  lives  and  ''learn  to  labor  and  to  wait" 
was  a  proverb  in  our  home.  I  was,  however,  per- 
mitted to  attend  school,  while  my  poor  mother  and 
sister  made  the  Professor  more  suits  of  clothes  to 
pay  my  tuition,  than  I  perhaps  deserved.  Still,  I  did 
try  to  learn  and  managed  to  stand  at  the  head  of  my 
classes  most  of  the  time. 

This  was  in  June,  in  that  memorable  year  1865. 
The  Government  had  sent  Yankee  soldiers  to  the  vil- 
lage to  rebuild  the  railroad  and  telegraph  office  that 
our  soldiers  had  destroyed.  One  day,  on  my  way  from 
school,  I  saw  a  neighbor's  boy,  Sandy  Hanff,  selling 


180  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE   THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

vegetables  and  fruit  to  these  men.  They  were  living 
in  tents  and  as  I  passed  I  thought  to  myself,  "we 
have  plenty  fruit  and  I  could  sell  some  things  too, 
like  Sandy,  even  if  I  am  a  girl."  I  felt  sure  we 
needed  the  money  as  much  as  Sandy  did.  Without 
saying  anything  to  my  mother  about  it,  for  I  felt 
intuitively  that  she  was  too  proud  to  permit  me  to  do 
it,  I  went  home,  found  a  white  split  oak  basket,  and 
putting  some  green  leaves  around  the  sides  I  filled 
the  basket  with  a  gallon  or  more  delicious  yellow 
plums.  Without  a  word  I  went  back  to  the  tent  where 
the  boy  had  sold  his  things  and  as  I  drew  near  the 
door  I  was  seized  with  mingled  feelings  of  shame 
and  regret, — shame,  to  meet  a  Yankee  soldier  and  tell 
him  I  needed  money,  and  regret  that  I  had  not  told 
my  mother;  so,  I  ran  back  again,  my  heart  having 
failed  me  entirely,  and  stopping,  I  remembered  that 
to  go  back  meant  failure  and  no  sugar,  no  meat,  which 
fact  bothered  me  very  little  as  I  said,  but  my  mother 
a  great  deal.  Finally  I  braced  up  as  I  ventured  near 
the  tent,  but  hearing  footsteps  again  inside  I  made  a 
sudden  dash  for  liberty  and  home.  But  again  I  stopped 
stock  still.  By  this  time  my  poor  little  arms  were 
beginning  to  ache  from  the  weigh  of  the  basket  filled 
with  plums  and  I  began  to  think  myself  a  coward, 
and  remembering  about  the  sugar  and  the  nice  candy 
it  would  make,  I  resolved  to  go  back  and  sell  my 
plums.  Besides,  now  I  came  to  think  of  it,  didn't  my 
dearest  friend,  Bettie  Cox,  have  a  pretty  dress  and 
shoes  that  had  been  made  from  goods  her  father 
bought  from  the  blockade  runners,  while  I  had  noth- 


HOW   I   FIRST   MET   "UNCLE   N$D."  181 

ing  but  homespun  frocks,  or  old  store  dresses  of  my 
sister's,  remade  for  myself.  Remembering  this,  I 
said,  "Bettie  Lee,  don't  be  a  coward,  because  you 
never  can  wear  store  shoes  and  pink  gingham  dresses 
if  you  don't  try  again."  I  smoothed  my  apron  and 
homespun  frock  and  looked  to  see  if  my  shoes  were 
tied — they  were  home-made  too,  and  the  natural  color 
of  the  leather  before  it  is  dressed,  quite  fashionable 
now,  but  to  me  at  that  time  they  were  a  source  of 
grief,  because  of  their  homely  look  both  in  color  and 
in  make.  I  wanted  black  morocco  shoes :  now  I  had 
a  hope  of  getting  them,  so  I  ran  in  again  and  before 
I  could  turn  back  I  found  myself  face  to  face  with 
a  manly  form,  wearing  a  Yankee  uniform.  Seeing 
my  embarrassment,  he  relieved  me  of  my  shyness  by 
speaking  first  and  said,  "Hello,  Sissy,  what  can  I  do 
for  you?"  "Will  you  buy  some  plums,  please  sir?  I 
want  to  get  some  sugar,  a  pink  gingham  frock  and 
morocco  shoes  and,  and — ."  Goodness  knows  when 
I  should  have  left  off  my  long  list  of  wants,  only  for 
the  comical  expression  I  saw  on  his  face,  and  he 
changed  the  subject  by  asking  my  name  and  where  I 
Jived.  I  told  him  my  name  was  "Bettie  Lee  and  that 
I  lived  in  the  two-story  white  house  on  Main  street 
and  the  county  road." 

"Why,  you  have  a  good  old  rebel  name,  Bettie.  Are 
you  related  to  the  great  General  Robert  E.  Lee?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  am,  and  my  brother  is  named  Robert 
for  him,"  I  answered  with  pardonable  pride. 

"Well,  why  didn't  he  come  to  sell  the  fruit  instead 
of  you?" 


182  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

"Because  he  carried  our  horse  and  buggy  with  a 
load  of  things  to  hide  them  from  the  Yankees  and  he 
never  came  back  again." 

"Did  the  Yankees  take  much  from  your  people?" 

"Everything  they  could  lay  their  hands  on,"  I  said, 
"except  what  was  hidden  and  what  the  guard  kept 
them  from  taking." 

"Did  you  really  have  a  guard  and  how  did  you  get 
him?"  he  asked,  not  in  curiosity,  but  seemed  inter- 
ested, I  thought. 

"Well,  my  mother  heard  a  band  playing  'Marching 
Through  Georgia,'  and  went  right  out  and  asked  Gen- 
eral Sherman  to  send  a  guard  to  protect  us.  I  was 
walking  on  tiptoe  behind  mother,  holding  on  to  her 
skirt,  but  she  didn't  know  I  was  there,  when  I  heard 
her  ask  an  officer  to  have  General  Sherman  pointed 
out  to  her;  he  granted  her  request  and  when  General 
Sherman  rode  by,  so  fine  in  blue  and  gold,  mother 
drew  near  and  asked  him  with  tears  streaming  down 
her  cheeks  to  send  her  a  guard  to  protect  her  little 
girls.  He  halted  and  asked  in  a  kindly  voice  whether 
she  had  husband  or  sons  in  the  war  and  she  told  him 
that  my  father  died  in  December,  '61,  that  one  son  was 
killed  at  "Seven  Pines"  and  the  other  died  a  few  weeks 
ago.  Her  youngest  son,  a  boy  of  fourteen,  had  gone 
off  with  her  horse  and  buggy  with  a  party  of  old  men 
who  had  never  returned  and  she  feared  no  word 
meant  that  he  was  dead.  She  began  to  weep  again  and 
that  made  me  weep  so  loud  that  she  turned  and  looked 
at  me,  greatly  alarmed  to  see  me  standing  with  her  at 
the  head  of  Sherman's  army  and  holding  timidly  to  the 


HOW   I   FIRST   MET   "UNCLE   NED."  183 

skirt  of  her  homespun  dress.  'Why,  my  child,  what 
a  dangerous  thing  for  you  to  do.  You  might  have 
been  killed  from  a  stray  bullet  from  our  men.'  'You 
might  have  been  killed  too,  mother,  and  if  you  were 
I  wanted  to  die  too.'  So  that  is  the  way  we  came  to 
have  a  guard  sent  to  us,  and  he  did  everything  possi- 
ble to  save  our  things  and  lots  of  the  things  that  were 
hidden  he  found  and  had  them  dug  up  and  brought  in 
to  my  mother.  His  name  was  Matthew  Bunting,  he 
told  me  and  that  he  came  from  Ohio.  We  didn't 
think  the  Yankees  would  be  a  bit  nice,  but  he  was 
mighty  nice,  I  thought." 

I  suddenly  recalled  the  fact  that  I  was  talking  to 
another  Yankee  and  I  must  not  let  him  think  that  any 
other  except  Mr.  Matthew  was  worth  talking  to  by 
a  little  Southern  girl. 

I  stopped  and  began  eating  a  large  yellow  plum. 
He  spoke  and  asked  what  I  charged  for  the  plums. 
"I  don't  know,  Mister,  just  what  you  think  them 
worth." 

"Here,  Bettie,  is  a  fifty  cent  shinplaster.  Take  that 
now,  but  try  to  bring  me  some  vegetables,  something 
green  to  eat,  lettuce,  onions,  etc.  We  can  find  noth- 
ing for  sale  like  that  in  this  town.  For  us  there  is 
nothing  but  meat  and  bread  in  this  blamed  country." 

"Why,  nobody  in  town  has  any  meat,"  I  replied. 
"Where  did  you  get  it?"  I  ventured  to  ask,  knowing 
how  much  mother  wanted  meat.  "Well,  it  is  shipped 
here  from  Baltimore  for  the  men  that  work  on  the 
telegraph  and  railroad." 

"I  don't  like  meat  at  all,  but  I  do  like  sugar  and 


184  FORGET-MS-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVII,   WAR. 

candy  made  from  sugar,  and  that's  why  I  want  to  sell 
the  fruit." 

"Wait  one  minute,  Bettie,"  said  he,  and  going  back 
into  the  tent  he  returned  with  two  large  pans,  one 
filled  with  meat,  bacon,  and  the  other  with  loaf  sugar. 
"Oh,  how  lovely,"  I  said,  inwardly  smacking  my  lips 
at  the  sight  of  the  sugar.  "Oh,  how  lovely,"  but 
then  remembering  my  mother,  I  became  confused  and 
said:  "Oh,  I  am  afraid  my  mother  will  be  angry  if 
I  take  these  things."  My  friend  evidently  seeing  how 
disturbed  I  was,  said :  "Well,  Bettie,  take  them  any- 
way, and  if  you  won't  accept  them  as  a  gift,  bring  me 
some  lettuce  or  greens  of  some  kind  and  your  mother 
will  surely  not  object  to  that."  I  thanked  him  and 
asked  him,  "Who  shall  I  call  for  on  my  return?"  "Just 
ask  for  Uncle  Ned." 

I  started  home  feeling  as  happy  as  a  little  girl  could 
who  had  sold  fruit  for  such  a  big  price  and  had  pros- 
pects of  doing  a  regular  business.  Suddenly,  I  felt 
a  dread  come  over  me  that  my  mother  would  not 
approve  of  this  thing  that  I  had  done  and  planned  to 
do  as  long  as  the  vegetables  lasted.  Something,  I 
could  not  tell  what,  made  my  spirits  sink  quite  low 
as  I  entered  the  gate  at  home  and  started  up  the  walk. 
I  had  a  choking  sensation  and  tears  unbidden  began 
to  well  up  in  my  eyes  until  I  could  hardly  see.  I 
stopped  to  brush  them  away  and  think  what  I  should 
do.  I  wanted,  now  that  the  prospect  seemed  favorable, 
to  sell  enough  truck  to  buy  me  a  pink  gingham  frock. 
Such  thoughts  would  never  have  entered  my  head, 
even  the  day  before,  with  nothing  in  sight  to  buy 
with,  but  my  visit  to  "Uncle  Ned"  had  shown  me  how 


HOW   I   FIRST   MET   "UNCLE   NED."  185 

I  could  make  money  enough  to  buy  myself  a  dress 
and  possibly  a  pair  of  black  morocco  shoes  too.  Put- 
ting everything  in  the  background  but  hope,  I  marched 
as  straight  as  I  could  go  to  my  mother's  room  and  in 
as  brave  a  manner  as  I  could  summon  up  and  without 
speaking  a  word,  I  placed  the  basket  before  her,  the 
pan  of  meat,  bacon,  on  one  side,  and  the  pan  filled 
with  sugar  on  the  other.  On  top  I  had  laid  the  dear 
little  shinplaster  that  meant  so  much  to  me.  I  waited 
a  moment  to  watch  mother's  face.  She  looked  first 
at  the  basket,  then  at  me.  Then  I  managed  to  say : 
"Well,  mother,  guess?"  Looking  over  her  spectacles, 
a  habit  she  had  when  she  didn't  like  a  thing  very  well, 
she  said:  "Bettie,  tell  me  what  in  the  world  this  is, 
and  where  did  you  get  it?"  "Taste  it  and  see  what  it 
is."  She  did  as  I  told  her,  unwittingly  I  am  sure,  and 
in  a  half  dazed  manner  said :  "Sugar,  as  I  live,  and 
bacon,  and — and  greenbacks.  Why,  child,  what  have 
you  done  ?"  A  look  of  alarm  came  over  her  face  and 
I  could  see  that  she  was  puzzling  out  the  riddle,  where 
I,  a  ten  year  old  child,  had  found  such  treasures  as 
she  held  on  her  lap.  Without  waiting  longer  I  went 
up  and  put  both  arms  around  her  neck  and  looking 
into  her  pretty  blue  eyes,  I  told  the  whole  story  of 
the  plums  and  "Uncle  Ned."  When  I  mentioned  his 
business  of  buying  supplies  for  the  men  working  on 
the  telegraph  and  railroad  my  mother  became  quite 
excited  and  said:  "Why,  Bettie  Lee,  you  must  be 
out  of  your  head  to  do  such  a  thing  as  to  sell  our  fruit 
to  those  awful  Yankees  working  on  the  railroad. 
The  very  idea!  Why  didn't  you  give  the  plums  to 
Doctor  Ellington,  our  pastor?     Oh,  I  am  so  humil- 


186  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF  THE)   CIVII,  WAR. 

iated  I  could  almost  die  for  shame."  "Now,  mother, 
Doctor  Ellington  has  no  money,  no  sugar  and  no  meat 
either,  for  I  heard  Mrs.  Ellington  say  they  had  none 
to  even  season  the  vegetables  with,  except  on  Sun- 
days." "Never  you  mind  what  they  do,  you  must 
carry  these  things  back.  I  can't  let  you,  a  big  girl 
of  ten,  go  out  selling  fruit  to  those  horrid  Yankees." 
I  began  to  cry  as  if  my  heart  would  break,  whereat 
my  sister  Cornelia,  seeing  my  distress  and  after  hear- 
ing what  an  awful  thing  I  had  done,  and  seeing,  no 
doubt,  the  sugar  and  bacon  too,  begged  mother  to  let 
me  keep  the  things,  but  be  sure  and  send  the  greens 
to  the  old  man  as  I  had  promised  to  do.  Nealie  always 
could  make  people  do  what  she  wanted.  Something 
in  her  pretty  face  and  sweet  voice  always  won  her 
cause.  I  immediately  was  granted  permission  to  keep 
the  things  and  soon  had  gathered  a  large  basket  of 
truck  and  away  I  went  to  carry  it  back  to  "Uncle  Ned." 
Seeing  my  eyes  swollen  from  weeping,  he  asked  the 
cause.  I  tried  to  make  as  light  of  the  matter  as  I 
could,  not  wishing  him  to  think  ill  of  my  mother,  but 
as  he  went  out  to  empty  the  basket  I  heard  him  mut- 
ter something  like  "such  pride  and  poverty  as  go  hand 
in  hand  I  never  saw  before."  Coming  back  he  looked 
at  me  in  such  a  fatherly  way  and  I  wondered  did 
"Uncle  Ned"  have  a  little  girl  like  me  somewhere. 
"Well,  Bettie,  we  will  settle  everything  satisfactorily. 
Now,  you  have  the  fruits  and  vegetables  ready  for 
me,  and  I  will  either  send  or  go  after  them  every 
morning  about  eight  o'clock,  and  so  relieve  your 
mother's  anxiety  about  your  coming  here."  I  went 
back  and  reported  this  to  my  mother  and  she  prom- 


HOW   I   FIRST   MET   "UNCLE   NED."  187 

ised  reluctantly,  to  let  me  do  as  I  had  planned  to  do, 
and  sell  enough  truck  to  buy  the  pink  gingham  frock. 
On  hearing  this  I  had  to  run  and  tell  Aunt  Pallas.  I 
had  no  sooner  finished  my  story  (and  to  prove  it  I 
brought  the  sugar  and  meat)  than  Aunt  began  a  per- 
fect tirade  of  abuse  about  the  "Yankees"  and  Mars 
Charles  Lee's  baby  "Betsey"  selling  truck  to  de  Yan- 
kees, and  she'd  never  heard  of  such  disgraceful  busi- 
ness before.  "I  never  specks  to  git  over  you  a  little 
chile  sellin'  dem  nice  plums  and  lettuce  to  de  ole  lazy 
Yankees,  and  I'll  be  seized  by  cats  if  I  ain't  scan- 
dalized,— me  nuthin'  but  an  ole  black  niggah.  Now, 
Betsey,  what  in  the  wold  all  dese  yere  white  folks  agoin 
to  say  when  dey  heah  tell  of  your  doins?  I'll  be  seized 
by  cats,  but  dis  shore  do  beat  all."  Whereupon  I  began 
to  cry  again,  for  in  my  mind  I  saw  myself  dressed  in 
the  pink  gingham  frock  and  all  my  friends  turning 
their  backs  on  me.  I  cried  harder  and  louder  than 
before  and  that  brought  my  mother  to  the  kitchen 
to  see  what  was  the  matter.  Aunt  repeated  her  words 
(somewhat  modified  though).  My  mother  scolded  her 
and  in  a  reproachful  voice  said :  "Why,  Pallas,  this 
old  man,  'Uncle  Ned,'  is  a  gentleman  if  he  is  a  Yan- 
kee, and  will  either  call  or  send  for  the  things."  In 
the  meantime,  Aunt  Pallas  began  to  wring  her  hands 
and  say:  "Laws  a  massy,  Miss  Candace,  you  shore 
do  beat  all,  to  take  things  lack  you  do.  Nobody  ain't 
agwine  to  say  one  word  about  'Betsey.'  I  never  meant 
dat,  but  jes  wanted  to  see  if  de  chile  was  agwine  to 
stick  to  what  she  said.  She  shore  don't  have  to  sell 
dat  truck  while  Ime  a  liven.  I'll  sell  it  to  de  good 
fur    nothin    Yankees    myself    and  bime  bye,  Betsey, 


188  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVII,   WAR. 

when  you  get  dat  pink  frock,  dere  ain't  none  of  de 
chillun  aroun  heah  can  hold  you  a  candle  to  walk  by." 
"Pallas,  I  want  to  have  no  more  foolishness  from 
you.  There  is  no  disgrace  in  making  an  honest  liv- 
ing. You  know  I  can't  make  coats  enough  to  buy 
Nealie  even  a  store  dress,  much  less  Bettie.  Calico 
is  fifty  cents  a  yard  now  and  will  be  even  higher  in 
the  fall,  while  I  get  only  four  dollars  for  making  a 
coat,  and  now  that  the  other  women  can  make  vests 
and  trousers  for  their  men  folks  I  don't  get  as  much 
work  to  do  as  I  did.  If  my  poor  little  fatherless  child 
can  sell  enough  truck  to  buy  herself  a  frock,  you  should 
be  the  last  one  to  speak  about  it.  Oh,  if  Mr.  Lee 
were  only  living  you  wouldn't  dare  to  say  such  things 
to  her."  Then  my  mother  began  to  cry.  That  started 
me  afresh.  Remorse  set  in  again  in  Aunt  Pallas'  con- 
science, so  she  wrung  her  hands  and  begged  my  par- 
don and  promised  never  again  to  chide  me  for  being 
so  smart.  Then  I  forgot  my  troubles  and  mother  and 
I  left  her  to  prepare  our  tea.  When  the  meal  was 
ready  I  was  permitted  to  have  a  large  cup  of  kettle 
tea,  sweetened  to  my  heart's  content,  and  a  thin  slice 
of  bacon,  broiled  to  a  turn.  Such  a  thing  never  hap- 
pened before.  We  children  were  never  allowed  to  eat 
meat  for  supper  because  it  made  us  thirsty  in  the 
night  and  no  one  wanted  to  get  up  out  of  bed  to  give 
a  drink  of  water  to  a  well  child.  Never  before,  or 
since  have  I  tasted  such  delicious  bacon.  Mother  and 
"Nealie"  relished  it  so  much  that  I  felt  pleased  to  look 
at  them  enjoy  it.  Even  Aunt  Pallas  said  "hit  is 
mighty  good  bacon  though  it  ain't  been  cured  in  our 
smoke  house." 


The  bonnie,  bonnie  bairn,  sits  pokin'  in  the  ase, 
Glowerin'  in  the  fire  wi'  his  wee  round  face; 
Laughin'  at  the  fuffin  lowe — what  sees  he  there? 
Ha!  the  young  dreamer's  diggin'  castles  in  the  air! 

— James  Ballantine. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
The  Beautiful  Pink  Frock. 

Next  morning  I  was  called  early  to  help  gather  the 
vegetables  for  "Uncle  Ned."  Such  a  lot  of  greens 
of  all  kinds  must  have  given  the  men  a  nice  meal,  for 
we  had  a  generous  supply  of  everything  when  the  man 
called  for  them.  I  often  wished  that  day  that  I  knew 
how  much  money  he  would  pay  me  for  them.  The 
next  morning  "Uncle  Ned"  came  and  gave  me  two 
dollars  for  the  two  days'  supplies,  and  such  riches, 
accumulated  in  two  days,  made  me  feel  quite  an  impor- 
tant factor  in  our  household.  I  had  almost  as  much 
money  as  my  mother  for  sewing  a  whole  week.  My 
hopes  rose  high  and  even  the  pink  dress  seemed  almost 
a  reality,  and  black  morocco  shoes  not  an  impossi- 
bility. So  we  traded  along  for  a  week  or  more,  until 
one  day  I  noticed  we  had  gathered  from  our  garden 
nearly  all  that  could  possibly  be  spared  from  our 
own  table,  and  then  my  heart  sank.  I  felt  it  was  all 
over  for  me — no  more  money,  no  pink  gingham  frock, 
no  morocco  shoes,  for  I  knew  the  ten  dollars  I  had 
made  was  not  enough  to  buy  all  those  coveted  things. 
I  sat  down  and  was  having  a  cry  when  "Uncle  Ned" 
came  into  the  garden  for  his  vegetables.  I  told  him 
between  sobs  that  our  supply  was  too  low  to  let  him 

191 


192  £ORGET-ME-NOTS  Otf  THE   CIVIL  WAR. 

have  anything  else  and  how  my  heart,  so  set  on  a 
pink  frock,  was  well  nigh  broken  because  I  did  not 
have  the  amount  necessary  to  buy  one.  "Well,  child, 
don't  cry.  I  am  going  to  Baltimore  for  a  week  or  two 
and  will  take  your  money  and  order  for  a  dress  and 
shoes  and  will  bring  them  back  when  I  return."  "Oh, 
thank  you,  Uncle  Ned.  You  can  buy  much  prettier 
things  there  than  we  could  get  here,  but  I  hate  to 
bother  you."  "That's  all  right,  little  girl;  you  have 
worked  hard  and  deserve  a  pretty  dress  and  I'll  get 
the  prettiest  I  can  find  in  Baltimore." 

I  ran  to  the  house  and  told  mother.  "I  know  Uncle 
Ned  can  get  your  things  cheaper  and  much  prettier 
in  a  northern  city,  but  isn't  it  asking  too  much  of  him 
to  do  it?"  "Oh,  no,  mother,  he  offered  to  take  my 
money  and  buy  the  frock  and  shoes  for  me.  I  never 
thought  of  asking  him  first." 

Of  course,  I  was  anxious  for  Uncle  Ned  to  leave. 
The  days  seemed  long  until  the  eventful  day  came. 
The  morning  before  leaving,  he  called  to  get  the  meas- 
ure of  my  feet.  My  mother  then  talked  with  him  for 
the  first  time  and  upon  my  request,  gave  him  the  hard- 
earned  greenbacks  to  pay  for  my  frock  and  shoes. 
When  I  parted  with  those  crisp  new  bills  of  money  I 
had  worked  so  hard  for  I  couldn't  but  help  feeling 
a  pang  of  regret  to  know  that  ended  my  career  as  a 
trader  with  the  Yankees,  but  when  I  thought  of  the 
pink  gingham  frock  I  cheerfully  handed  it  over  to 
Uncle  Ned.  He  looked  at  me,  then  at  my  mother. 
"Mrs.  Lee,"  he  said,  "I  hate  to  take  this  money.  Let 
me  make  a  present  of  it  to  Bettie  and  I'll  bring  her  a 


Nealie  and  the  Pink  Frock. 


the;  beautiful  pink  frock.  193 

dress  and  shoes  only  too  gladly."  Mother  straightened 
up  and  looked  surprised,  and  with  a  most  offended 
air  said,  "No,  Sir,  my  daughter,  though  only  a  child, 
cannot  accept  money  from  any  person,  much  less  from 
a  stranger  and  an — an — enemy,  like  you."  Seeing  his 
mistake  he  spoke  immediately :  "Pardon  me,  madam, 
you  are  quite  right  and  I  cheerfully  submit  to  your 
wishes."  When  he  was  bidding  us  farewell,  my 
mother  took  occasion  to  thank  him  for  his  kindness 
to  her  "baby." 

I  felt  a  pang  of  sorrow  at  losing  "Uncle  Ned"  even 
for  a  visit.  Then  he  took  my  hand  and  in  a  fatherly 
way  bade  me  goodbye  and  told  me  to  be  smart  at 
school.  I  watched  him,  with  tears  streaming  down 
my  cheeks,  leave  our  home  and  go  to  the  railroad  sta- 
tion, where  he  boarded  a  train  for  Baltimore.  When 
the  train  passed  our  house  I  was  on  the  porch  waving 
at  the  dear  fatherly  friend  standing  on  the  rear  plat- 
form, his  hat  in  his  hand,  the  wind  blowing  his  white 
locks,  a  smile  on  his  kind  face.  His  blue  eyes  caught 
one  glimpse  of  my  childish  form  in  the  doorway, — and 
on  the  train  sped  that  carried  all  my  wealth  farther 
and  farther  away. 

I  went  out  to  visit  "Aunt  Pallas"  for  consolation. 
"Now,  didn't  I  tell  you  'Betsey,'  about  tradin'  with  dem 
Yankees?  Shore  now  he's  gone,  after  eatin'  up  your 
truck  and  got  your  money  too.  Honey,  you  can't  fool 
dis  ole  niggah.  I  dun  heard  it  thunder  a  long  time, 
and  I'll  be  seized  by  cats  if  I  b'lieve  he's  ever  coming 
back  heah  agin." 

In  my  childish  heart  I  resented  this  and  as  I  remem- 


194  FORG£T-ME-NOTS   OF   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

bered  how  he  looked  at  me  when  he  bade  me  "good- 
bye," I  saw  truth  written  on  his  dear  old  wrinkled 
face,  and  slamming  the  door  of  Aunt's  room  as  loud 
as  I  could,  I  fairly  yelled,  "I  don't  care  what  you  say, 
I  know  he  is  coming  back." 

While  she  loved  me  better  than  anything  on  earth 
and  I  loved  her  very  dearly,  we  usually  disagreed  be- 
fore we  ever  reached  the  point  of  consolation. 

A  week  passed,  and  no  news  from  "Uncle  Ned," 
though  I  thought  of  him  many  times  each  day.  I 
said  nothing,  but  every  day  I  ran  to  the  depot  to  see 
if  he  did  not  get  off  the  train,  and  every  day  I  went 
back  disappointed.  My  mother  pretended  not  to  notice 
his  prolonged  absence.  Indeed,  I  was  too  proud  of 
"Uncle  Ned"  to  listen  to  words  from  anyone  that 
might  reflect  on  him.  So,  out  of  respect  to  my  faith 
in  him,  all  kept  silent;  even  Aunt  Pallas  kept  her 
thoughts  to  herself,  no  doubt  at  mother's  request.  I 
waited  patiently  for  three  weeks,  and  as  he  did  not 
come  I  made  up  my  mind  to  stop  going  to  the 
depot  and  watching  for  him.  I  felt  sure  that  he  had 
died  and  I  should  never  see  him  again.  I  felt  worse 
about  that  than  losing  all  my  money,  and  the  prospects 
of  frock  and  shoes. 

Not  to  dwell  too  long  on  my  misery,  for  I  went  to 
bed  with  a  sorrowful  heart  at  night  and  would  awake 
the  next  morning  with  a  sadness  that  made  me  long  to 
forget  "Uncle  Ned"  and  all  I  remembered  about  him 
and  his  kindness  to  me.  Still,  I  did  not  give  up  hope 
entirely,  and  daily  prayed  for  his  return,  and  one  day 
my  patient  waiting  and  prayers  were  rewarded,  for 


— iWf 

"Uncle  Ned's"  Return. 


the;  beautiful,  pink  frock.  195 

I  looked  out  the  window  and  there  was  "Uncle  Ned" 
coming  down  the  street  leading  Sandy  Hanfr"  by  the 
hand.  They  both  were  carrying  an  armful  of  bundles. 
I  ran  as  fast  as  I  could  to  meet  them,  and  grasping 
"Uncle  Ned"  by  the  hand,  I  told  him  in  one  breath 
how  glad  I  was  to  see  him  again,  "but  one  day  I 
thought  you  had  died  and  left  me  like  my  father." 

"Well,  child,  I  have  been  very  sick  and  I  came  near 
dying.  I  had  a  bad  case  of  malarial  fever.  I  thought 
I'd  never  see  my  little  Southern  children  again.  I 
didn't  write  as  I  should  have  done." 

By  this  time  we  were  on  the  porch  and  Uncle  Ned, 
who  was  still  weak  from  his  illness,  sank  down  on 
a  chair. 

"Now  for  opening  the  bundles,  children." 

Finally,  after  much  pulling  and  tugging  at  the 
strings,  there  lay  in  all  its  freshness  the  material  for 
a  frock,  all  pink, —  a  very  soft  rosy  shade  that  I  liked 
so  much.  The  goods  did  not  look  or  feel  like  anything 
I  had  ever  seen,  and  I  said :  "What  lovely  gingham ! 
I  never  saw  anything  so  beautiful  before,  Uncle  Ned, 
and  I  just  think  you  were  too  good  to  buy  it  for  me." 

"It  isn't  gingham,  Bettie,  but  a  mousseline  some- 
thing— I  can't  remember  the  name.  It  is  much  pret- 
tier than  the  gingham  you  had  set  your  heart  on  and 
you  can  keep  it  longer,  for  it  is  such  a  soft  silk  it 
will  wear  well." 

In  another  parcel  was  a  box  full  of  trimmings,  vel- 
vet ribbon,  white  lace,  buttons  and  everything  neces- 
sary to  make  a  most  beautifully  finished  gown  for 
even  a  grown  lady.     Then  from  another  box  "Uncle 


196  FORGET-ME-NOTS   01?   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

Ned"  brought  forth  the  loveliest  pair  of  black  satin 
slippers  with  steel  buckles.  Cinderella's  glass  slipper 
was  never  so  beautiful  to  her  as  were  my  own  lovely 
slippers. 

"Oh,  Uncle  Ned,  I  thank  you  so  much  I  can't  begin 
to  tell  you  how  much  I  love  you  for  getting  me  so 
many  pretty  things." 

In  the  meantime  Sandy  Hanff  had  opened  his  par- 
cel and  found  a  nice  suit  of  clothes,  with  hat  and  shoes 
to  complete  his  outfit,  but  nothing  could  induce  me 
to  leave  off  looking  at  my  beautiful  present.  After 
awhile  the  box  of  French  candy  absorbed  my  attention 
for  a  short  time.  When  my  mother  and  sister  were 
called  out  and  saw  my  treasures,  mother's  eyes  filled 
with  tears  of  gratitude  at  the  sight  of  my  joy.  Nealie 
kissed  me  over  and  over  again,  she  was  so  happy  for 
me.  Old  Aunt  Pallas,  of  course,  had  forgotten  all 
she  had  said  about  "Uncle  Ned"  never  coming  back 
and  bestowed  such  praise  as  only  a  faithful  old  darkey 
can.  From  that  day  on  to  the  day  of  her  death  she 
continued  to  sing  his  praises.  It  is  needless  to  say 
how  much  I  thanked  "Uncle  Ned"  and  how  much  I 
loved  him  for  his  generous  gifts,  for  I  knew  my  poor 
little  money  had  never  lasted  to  buy  such  fine  goods 
as  he  had  brought  to  me. 

In  a  few  days  "Uncle  Ned"  was  ordered  with  his 
men  to  the  southern  part  of  the  state  and  I  had  to 
bid  farewell  forever  to  the  dear,  kind  friend;  for  I 
never  saw  or  heard  of  him  again,  but  never  did  I 
forget  to  pray  for  "Uncle  Ned." 


We  shape  ourselves  the  joy  or  fear 
Of  which  the  coming  life  is  made, 
And  fill  our  future  atmosphere 
With  sunshine  or  with  shade. 

— Anonymous. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

My  First  Great  Sacrifice. 

t 

I  went  back  to  school  and  studied  harder  than  ever, 
because  I  felt  that  my  mother  and  sisters  were  doing 
so  much  for  me  by  sewing  to  pay  for  my  tuition.  I 
knew  more  what  the  value  of  money  was  after  trying 
to  make  some  myself.  However,  I  was  happy  as  the 
day  was  long  and  never  grew  tired  of  taking  out  my 
treasures  every  day,  and  admiring  them,  and  each 
time  I  saw  new  beauties  in  them.  Two  months  passed 
away  and  I  had  asked  my  mother  every  day  to  make 
the .  pink  frock  for  me.  Each  time  she  had  put  me 
off  by  saying,  "Wait  till  your  school  closes  and  then 
you  will  have  your  frock  for  the  exhibition,"  as  we 
called  the  closing  exercises.  Mother  said,  "Don't  be 
impatient,  now.  You  have  the  goods  to  make  it  and 
your  frock  will  be  the  prettiest  there." 

Those  were  very  happy  days,  when  the  anticipa- 
tion gave  me  more  pleasure  than  the  reality;  but  soon 
the  time  came  when,  from  being  a  happy  little  girl, 
I  was  to  be  a  sad  and  greatly  disappointed  one.  As 
I  said  before,  my  sister  Cornelia  had  a  wonderful 
influence  over  the  members  of  the  family,  and  espec- 
ially over  me.  One  day  when  I  was  busy  playing  with 
my  dolls  Nealie  came  in  and  taking  me  in  her  arms 

199 


200  FORGST-MEJ-NOTS   OF   TH£   ClVIIy   WAR. 

said,  "Honey,  I  have  had  a  letter  from  Emma  Katie 
Jones,  asking  me  to  be  one  of  her  bridesmaids  the 
tenth  of  next  month.  The  maids  are  to  wear  pink 
dresses,  but  of  course,  I  can't  accept  her  invitation." 

"Why  can't  you,  sister?"  I  asked. 

"Because  mother  is  not  able  to  buy  me  a  dress — we 
are  too  poor,"  she  sighed. 

At  this  I  felt  a  great  lump  rise  in  my  throat  and 
choke  me,  for  I  instantly  thought  of  the  pink  dress 
Uncle  Ned  had  brought  to  me,  and  how  beautiful  it 
was,  and  I  wished  Nealie  had  one  like  it,  and  in  the 
fullness  of  my  heart  I  said :  "I  wish  you  had  one 
like  mine,  Sister." 

She  looked  sadly  at  me  and  with  tears  in  her  eyes 
and  with  trembling  voice,  answered :  "Your  poor 
sister  is  grown  and  has  nothing  decent  to  wear  to  the 
wedding — "  and  here  she  heaved  a  deeper  sigh  than 
before,  and  made  me  choke  again  when  she  suddenly 
asked,  "How  many  yards  did  Uncle  Ned  bring  you?" 

"I  don't  know,  sister,  but  I'll  fetch  it  here  for  you 
to  see."  At  this  I  ran  into  my  room  and  soon  returned 
with  the  goods.  When  she  had  counted  the  folds,  she 
exclaimed:  "There  are  fifteen  yards,  fully." 

"Oh  goody!     Enough  for  us  both  a  frock." 

"Oh  dear,  no.  Just  enough  for  a  grown  person  and 
entirely  too  much  for  a  little  girl  like  you."  And  here 
I  felt  another  choking  sensation  and  with  it  a  feeling 
that  I  might  have  to  give  up  the  pink  dress  after  all. 
I  sat  still  as  if  turned  to  stone,  while  she  looked  at 
me,  her  big  gray  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  with  a 
hopeless  voice  said : 


MY  FIRST  GR£AT   SACRIFICE;.  201 

"I  do  wish  father  or  Uncle  Ransom  were  alive; 
they  would  get  me  a  pink  dress  somehow;  just  think, 
Julia  Flowers  and  Nannie  Gulley  are  going  to  wear 
those  pink  barege  dresses  that  belonged  to  their 
mothers.  Do  you  remember  the  trunks  that  were  hid- 
den that  the  Yankees  never  found — well,  they  were 
saved  in  those  trunks.  Here  I  am,  with  nobody  to  lend 
me  a  dress,  while  you  have  all  that  goods  Uncle  Ned 
brought  you.  Mother  says  it  will  waste  it  to  make  you 
a  frock  out  of  it,  too.  There  will  be  several  yards 
wasted — ."  Here  she  broke  out  into  sobs.  "If  you 
loved  your  sister  like  I  love  you,  you  would  let  me 
have  the  goods  and  make  a  dress  for  myself  to  wear 
to  the  wedding,  then  lay  it  aside  till  you  get  large 
enough  to  wear  it.  You  know  I  couldn't  spoil  it  by 
just  wearing  it  to  the  wedding.  I  would  give  it  to 
you  if  it  were  mine  and  you  needed  it,  but  you  don't 
love  your  sister  Nealie  that  sits  and  sews  day  after 
day  for  you  to  go  to  school.  No,  don't  tell  me  that 
you  love  me;  actions  speak  louder  than  words." 

I  could  stand  no  more,  but  wept  bitterly  to  be  ac- 
cused of  not  loving  my  sister.  I  felt  then  in  my  heart 
I  loved  her  better  than  any  one  in  the  world. 

"Yes,  I  do  love  you,  Sis,  but  I  can't  spare  my  pink 
frock  that  Uncle  Ned  gave  me,  and  please,  oh,  please, 
don't  ask  me  to  give  it  up." 

"Bettie,  I  wouldn't  ask  you  for  the  world.  You 
don't  want  me  to  have  things  like  other  girls.  You 
don't  care  if  I  go  to  this  wedding  or  not,  and  if  I 
don't  go  to  that  I  shall  never  be  asked  to  go  anywhere 
else.     You  know  Ashley  will  be  groomsman  whether 


202  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE   THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

I  go  or  not,  and  I  shall  lose  him, — and — you  know 
you  do  like  him ;  that  is,  you're  always  begging  me  to 
marry  him."    Here  she  blushed. 

I  then  began  to  see  myself  as  a  very  selfish  little 
girl  and  my  sister  grown  up  and  liked  well  enough 
by  her  friends  to  be  asked  as  bridesmaid  at  the  grand- 
est wedding  since  the  surrender  and  then  on  account 
of  her  poverty,  not  permitted  to  accept  the  invitation 
that  would  give  her  a  chance  to  outshine  all  her 
friends,  besides  making  her  supremely  happy.  I  saw 
myself  keeping  the  pink  dress  for  the  close  of  the 
school  when  I  had  no  special  way  to  show  it  off  other 
than  a  recitation  or  reading  a  composition,  and  then 
being  envied  by  my  dearest  friends.  I  saw  myself  in 
such  an  ugly  picture  I  did  not  want  to  see  it  again. 
I  knew  I  ought  to  give  the  dress  to  my  sister,  but 
such  a  struggle  took  place  in  my  heart  that  never  before 
or  since  have  I  felt  quite  so  bad  as  I  did  then.  To 
deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  keeping  the  frock,  the 
pretty  pink  frock  that  I  loved  so  much,  was  worse 
suffering  than  my  pen  can  describe,  for  I  well  knew 
how  difficult  it  was  to  get  even  a  cheap  frock.  I  felt 
that  never  again  would  I  get  another  like  the  beauti- 
ful one  "Uncle  Ned"  gave  me.  Oh,  what  floods  of 
tears  I  shed,  and  my  sister  wept  with  me,  but  insist- 
ently said,  "You  don't  love  me.  If  you  did  you'd 
want  me  to  go  to  the  wedding  and  have  a  good  time 
once  in  awhile,  after  all  the  long  years  I've  sewed  so 
hard  to  help  you  through  school  and  buy  your  dresses. 
Don't  tell  me  you  love  me  for  I  know  you  don't  and 
don't  even  want  me  to  go  to  the  wedding." 


MY  FIRST  GREAT  SACRIFICE.  203 

With  a  wail  that  came  from  the  bottom  of  my  poor 
little  aching  heart,  I  sobbed  out,  "Oh  yes,  sister,  I 
do  love  you.  Please  take  the  goods  and  make  you 
a  dress.  I  don't  care  and  couldn't  ever  enjoy  it  again." 
Sobbing  harder  than  ever,  I  went  out  to  the  kitchen 
to  Aunt  Pallas  for  comfort  and  laying  my  head  on 
her  lap  I  told  her  my  trouble.  She  cried  with  me,  but 
said:  "Let  Pussy  have  it,  honey.  She's  a  grown 
woman  and  you  know  you'se  only  a  little  gal,  and  you 
do  wants  her  to  be  de  belle  an'  outshine  Miss  Nannie 
an'  Miss  Julia  at  dat  big  weddin,'  for  nothin'  but  de 
quality'll  be  dere.  I'll  make  you  some  nice  candy 
right  now."  But  I  didn't  even  care  for  that,  and  went 
into  the  garden  and  walked  up  and  down  the  walk, 
but  everything  there  reminded  me  of  "Uncle  Ned" 
and  caused  more  heartaches  and  such  a  lonesome  feel- 
ing that  I  came  to  the  house,  went  to  my  room  and 
to  bed,  where  I  sobbed  myself  to  sleep.  Many  times 
I  awoke  with  a  start,  to  cry  myself  to  sleep  again.  My 
mother  was  greatly  distressed  and  Nealie,  too,  so 
they  told  me  afterwards,  when  I  could  bear  to  talk 
about  it  without  tears,  how  mother  upbraided  my  sis- 
ter for  being  so  heartless  as  to  think  of  taking  my 
frock  away  from  me.  The  next  day  I  felt  more 
reconciled  and  after  my  sister  and  mother  begged  me 
to  keep  the  goods  and  I  begged  them  to  say  no  more 
about  it  but  cut  it  then  and  there,  they  both  decided 
to  do  as  I  wished.  I  steeled  myself  to  look  at  the 
beautiful  rosy  material  without  the  tears  filling  my 
eyes,  though  I  am  certain  I  swallowed  them,  for  I  took 
a  sudden  notion  to  run  out  into  the  yard  when  I  knew 


204  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE  CIVIE   WAR. 

they  were  about  to  begin  to  cut  into  the  goods.  I 
saw  them  through  the  window  begin  the  sewing,  then 
I  ventured  in  and  sat  down  in  my  little  chair  and 
watched  them  sewing  and  fitting  it.  I  had  many  pangs 
— like  the  loss  of  something  held  dear  but  would  not 
have  back  again. 

Oh,  how  beautiful  Nealie  looked  in  that  pink 
dress!  Her  complexion,  so  fair  always,  seemed  more 
beautiful  and  radiant  and  soft,  with  a  faint  rosy  tint 
reflected  from  the  dress.  I  watched  and  enjoyed  see- 
ing how  beautiful  and  happy  my  sister  looked,  even  in 
the  fitting,  and  I  thought  how  much  happier  she  would 
be  at  the  wedding. 

The  day  finally  came  when  my  sister  was  preparing 
to  leave  for  the  wedding.  I  sat  in  her  room  and  saw 
her  pack  her  trunk  and  when  the  tray  was  put  in  that 
contained  the  pink  gown,  I  slipped  quietly  away  to  my 
room,  and  opening  the  closet  door,  took  down  the  box 
with  the  slippers  in  it  and  crept  back  to  Nealie's 
room  again. 

"Here,  sister,  take  these  slippers.  Your  feet  are 
small  as  mine.  I  have  no  use  for  them  now,"  and 
throwing  my  arms  around  her  neck,  gave  her  such  a 
hug  as  must  have  told  her  I  did  love  her,  and  with  a 
wail  of  sorrow  that  seemed  to  say  I  had  given  all  I 
had  to  her,  I  ran  out  to  my  room  and  knelt  down  and 
asked  the  good  Lord  to  make  me  willing  to  give  up 
my  frock  and  slippers  to  my  sister  and  to  keep  me 
from  being  a  selfish  little  girl  ever  again  and  to  make 
me  happy  over  trying  to  make  Nealie  happy. 

My  prayer  was  answered,  for  I  felt  a  peace  come 
over  me  that  filled  my  whole  being  with  joy. 


MY  FIRST  GREAT   SACRIFICE.  205 

The  wedding  came  off  and  "Nealie  Lee"  was  said 
to  be  the  prettiest  girl  present,  and  of  course,  her 
dress,  next  to  the  bride's,  was  the  most  beautiful. 

When  she  came  home  and  threw  her  arms  around 
me  and  said,  "Oh,  Bettie,  darling,  you  are  the  most 
unselfish  girl  that  ever  lived,  to  give  up  that  beautiful 
dress  and  slippers  to  me.  I  didn't  deserve  them  a  bit. 
I  was  the  selfish  one  to  take  them  from  you,  but  oh, 
they  made  me  so  happy.  I  did  feel  so  well  dressed, 
and,  and, — "  she  stammered,  "everybody  told  me  how 
nice  I  looked.  I  know  you  must  love  me  dearly,  too. 
Forgive  me,  Bettie,  honey,  for  talking  like  I  did  to 
you.  But  I  want  to  tell  you  a  little  secret — Ashley  Sid- 
ney admired  the  dress  more  than  anyone,"  here  she 
blushed  deeply  and  stammered  :  "and — I — I  have  prom- 
ised to  marry  him.  You  know  you  like  him  and  always 
said  you  wanted  me  to  marry  him;  and  think,  dearest 
sister,"  giving  me  a  kiss,  "Ashley  might  never  have 
asked  me,  only  for  the  pink  dress  and — my  little  sis- 
ter Bettie's  sacrifice." 


All  hail  to  the  Lordjlings  of  high  degree, 
Who  live  not  more  happy,  tho'  greater  than  we; 

Our  pastimes  to  see  'em  under  every  green  tree, 
In  all  the  gay  woodland,  right  welcome  ye  be.  . 

McDonald. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
The;  State  Tournament. 

"After  Darkness  comes  the  dawn,"  so  after  the 
reconstruction  days  had  passed,  came  sunshine  again 
into  our  old  North  State,  and  our  county,  especially, 
had  rebounded  from  the  evils  of  the  war.  The  few 
young  men  of  the  gallant  "Fourth  North  Carolina 
Regiment"  had  returned  to  their  homes  after  the  war, 
to  turn  their  hands  to  the  work  nearest  them;  but  all 
work  is  not  good  even  for  rebel  soldiers  to  have  for 
a  steady  diet,  so  when  a  feeling  of  stagnation  seized 
them,  one  more  bright  than  the  rest,  suggested  that 
they  meet  in  October  and  hold  a  tournament  in  Clay- 
ton, to  crown  for  queen  of  love  and  beauty  the  fairest 
daughter  in  the  "Old  North  State."  This  announcement 
was  made  months  before  the  tournament  was  to  come 
off,  and  notices  were  sent  to  the  various  state  papers 
to  that  effect. 

I  was  attending  school  in  those  days  at  the  Acad- 
emy, where  Professor  John  M.  White  was  principal; 
he  was  one  of  the  kindest  of  men.  His  patience  was 
a  beautiful  example  for  his  pupils,  who  did  not  appre- 
ciate this  noble  man  for  all  he  was  worth.  He  had 
taken  great  pains  with  me  in  Algebra  and  Latin,  two 
studies  that  were  most  difficult  for  me  to  master,  but 

207 


208  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVII,   WAR. 

his  efforts  were  not  rewarded  as  they  should  have 
been.  I  was  about  fourteen  at  the  time  of  the 
approaching  tournament,  tall  for  my  age,  with 
large  brown  eyes,  that  were  my  only  good 
feature.  My  nose  was  too  small,  my  mouth 
too  large,  and  added  to  that  my  age.  I  had  not  a 
single  thought  of  any  honors  for  myself,  but  I  could 
not  help  feeling  sure  that  Nealie  would  wear  enough 
for  the  family.  She  had  developed  into  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  girls  in  the  "Old  North  State."  Her 
beauty  had  gone  abroad  in  the  land ;  wherever  she  went 
strangers  never  failed  to  inquire  who  the  beautiful 
young  lady  could  be.  None  were  ever  disappointd, 
but  many  were  greatly  surprised  and  greatly  admired 
her  surpassing  beauty.  If  I  could  draw  a  pen  picture 
of  her  I  should  be  able  to  depict  the  masterpiece  of 
old  North  Carolina.  Her  hair,  face,  figure,  all  seemed 
as  nearly  perfect  as  ever  came  from  the  hands  of  our 
Maker.  Her  beautiful  brown,  wavy  hair,  so  like  my 
mother's,  was  touched  with  a  glint  of  gold,  which 
shone  out  in  the  light  like  a  ray  of  sunshine  in  a  dark- 
ened room,  yet  you  never  thought  for  one  moment 
that  her  hair  was  other  than  soft  sunny  brown,  though 
there  gleamed  always  the  golden  tints  in  certain  lights, 
and  one  of  her  chief  charms  was  the  sunlit  brown 
hair,  which  fell  in  soft  ringlets,  when  not  confined 
around  her  alabaster  brow.  She  wore  her  hair  parted 
in  the  middle  and  coiled  low  on  the  nape  of  the  neck, 
leaving  a  peep  at  a  shell-like  ear,  her  large  clear  soft 
eyes,  shaded  by  a  fringe  of  dark  lashes,  were  as  blue 
as  the  "azure  depths,"  but  when  aroused  grew  dark 


TH£  state:  tournament.  209 

as  the  turbulent  waters  of  a  stormy  sea.  The  nose 
was  a  perfect  Grecian,  much  like  my  dear  mother's 
also,  the  delicate  nostrils  showing  such  sensibilities 
as  a  great  artist  would  love  to  paint.  A  rosebud  of 
a  mouth,  teeth  so  regular  that  they  seemed  truly  a 
part  of  a  beautiful  picture,  and  that  picture  a  beautiful 
reality.  All  of  these  set  in  an  oval  face  of  pink  and 
white,  completed  the  picture,  together  with  a  figure 
of  medium  height,  well  rounded  proportions,  such  as 
I  can  remember,  is  a  feeble  attempt  to  draw  a  pen  pic- 
ture of  my  sister  Nealie  at  the  time  of  the  great  state 
tournament  at  Clayton,  North  Carolina,  on  the  twenty- 
first  day  of  October,  eighteen  sixty-nine. 

The  day  for  the  tournament  dawned  brightly  beau- 
tiful, with  a  crispness  in  the  air  to  give  greater  zest 
to  the  sport.  Soon  the  sleepy  old  town  of  Clayton 
was  astir  with  signs  of  bustle  and  activity. 

Old  family  coaches  whose  steps  folded  up  and  with 
rumbles  in  the  back,  now  rolled  into  town,  with  trunks 
fastened  on  them.  Many  of  these  had  never  been  seen 
since  before  the  war.  Then  came  young  men  and  girls 
riding  on  horseback,  who  alighted  and  sought  seats  in 
the  grand  stand.  The  crowds  grew  dense,  the  streets 
were  black  with  people,  all  making  for  the  race  track, 
and  never  since  Sherman's  army  came  through  Clay- 
ton was  the  old  town  so  full  of  people. 

The  coaches  and  people  came  from  every  part  of  the 
"Old  North  State,"  and  were  the  elite  of  the  South. 
The  judges  and  Knights  were  composed  of  the  repre- 
sentative men  from  the  different  parts  of  the  state. 
The  Knights  from  our  town  and  county  were  Ashley 


210  FORGET-ME-NOTS   Of  THE   CIVIL  WAR. 

Sidney,  Nat  Tomlison,  John  Dodd  and  Jesse  Elling- 
ton. 

Wake  county  was  represented  by  Bijou  Satre,  John 
Johns  and  Sim  Pool.  George  Battle  from  Rocky 
Mount,  Archie  Rhodes  from  Wilson,  Billy  Hinton 
from  Wilmington,  Hardie  Home  from  Fayetteville. 

Ashley  Sidney,  our  townsman,  dressed  as  King 
Henry  of  Navarre,  looked  regal  in  his  purple  vel- 
vet costume  with  gold  trimmings,  white  silk  stockings, 
helmet  with  white  plume  waving  in  the  breeze,  white 
gauntlets,  completed  the  costume  of  this  regal  look- 
ing knight.  He  was  a  handsome  man,  with  bronzed 
complexion,  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  dark  brown  eyes, 
that  caused  many  a  lassie  to  look  at  him  more  than 
once.  Ashley  Sidney  was  one  of  the  boys  who  had 
followed  "Ole  Mars  Robert"  for  four  years  "nigh 
about,"  and  only  left  him  when  Lee  surrendered. 

He  had  come  home  ragged  and  barefooted,  to  find 
work  enough  to  keep  him  busy  for  the  next  few  years. 
However,  a  chance  to  meet  some  of  his  old  comrades 
again  made  him  take  the  leisure  to  enter  this  contest. 
He  was  the  crack  rider  of  our  county,  and  even  the 
whole  state  had  shown  no  better.  So  it  was  with 
unbounded  pride  and  admiration  that  our  people 
counted  on  his  winning  first  honors,  even  the  state 
papers  had  mentioned  him  as  a  possible  winner.  If 
he  looked  handsome  as  a  ragged,  barefoot  soldier,  he 
looked  kingly  as  this  knight  of  olden  times. 

Ashley  had  known  Nealie  from  her  earilest  child- 
hood, and  in  his  own  quiet  way  had  loved  her,  but 
not  wishing  to   render  her  more   uncomfortable   by 


the:  state;  tournament.  211 

marrying  her  in  haste,  as  he  wanted  to  build  a  little 
nest  for  her.  It  was  an  understanding  between  them 
that  when  he  was  able  they  would  be  united,  although 
he  put  no  restrictions  on  her  going  and  coming  with 
other  young  men,  though  the  family  knew  he  hoped  to 
marry  her  some  day.  So  when  the  tournament  had 
been  arranged  to  come  off  at  Clayton  everyone  felt 
sure  that  our  town  would  carry  off  the  first  honors, 
and  that  Ashley  and  Nealie  both  would  be  the  ones 
to  wear  them. 

Ashley  rode  a  milk  white  filly,  called  "Snowball." 
She  was  a  blooded  mare  and  showed  it  in  her  every 
movement.  He  had  spent  much  time  in  training  her 
for  the  tournament,  besides  that  she  was  considered 
about  the  fastest  mare  for  her  size  in  the  state,  and  it 
would  have  to  be  a  very  fine  racer  to  beat  "Snowball," 
so  our  people  said.  She  came  from  that  great  family, 
"Godolphins"  Arabian,  who  have  so  many  racers  to 
their  credit. 

Nat  Tomlison,  from  a  few  miles  out  of  Clayton, 
but  living  in  Johnston  county,  represented  a  Knight 
of  "The  Star  and  Garter."  He  was  a  fine  looking 
fellow,  and  in  the  costume  of  blue  velvet  trimmed  in 
white  lace,  white  silk  hose,  with  large  diamond  buckle 
on  garter  and  diamond  star  on  heart,  helmet  with  blue 
plumes,  and  white  gauntlets,  made  another  handsome 
knight.  His  horse  was  brown  with  a  white  star  in 
forehead,  a  showy  looking  animal  with  a  long  mane 
and  tail,  plaited  and  tied  with  blue  ribbons.  Her 
name  was  "Brownie." 

Jesse  Ellington,  another  knight,  handsome  of  face 


212  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

and  form,  appeared  on  the  list  as  "Knight  of  Lochin- 
var,"  in  Scottish  plaids  and  kilts,  looking  the  part  of 
the  young  chieftain  to  perfection.  The  horse  he  was 
riding  was  a  blood  bay,  with  white  stockings,  a  hand- 
some animal  and  quite  spirited  looking.  He  was 
called  "Lucky  Boy." 

Hardie  Home  as  "Knight  of  Isabella,"  was  cos- 
tumed in  black  and  yellow  satin.  He  was  riding  a 
clay  bank  gelding  of  unusually  good  style,  called  the 
"Emperor." 

Bijou  Satre  came  out  as  "Richard,  Couer  de  Leon," 
in  black  velvet  and  gold  lace,  a  helmet  with  a  gold 
plume  made  him  an  attractive  rider,  mounted  on  a 
coal  black  horse,  restless  and  very  spirited,  well  named 
as  "Black  Diamond." 

John  Johns,  "Knight  of  St.  Thomas,"  wearing  sap- 
phire blue  velvet,  trimmed  in  white  lace,  helmet  with 
sapphire  plumes.  He  was  riding  a  reddish  sorrel  horse 
with  white  feet,  a  red  mane  and  tail.  She  was  a  racy 
looking  little  thing  called  "Beauty." 

Sim  Poole  as  "Knight  of  St.  John,"  wore  a  magenta 
red  velvet,  trimmed  in  white  lace,  helmet  from  which 
depended  a  long  magenta  plume  and  white  gauntlets 
completed  a  very  effective  costume.  He  rode  a  roan 
colored  mare  with  a  short  bob  tail,  with  "Queenie" 
for  her  name. 

Billy  Hinton  from  Wilmington  was  wearing  an 
emerald  green  velvet  costume,  and  as  "Knight  of  St. 
Patrick,"  was  appropriately  dressed.  He  rode  a  bay 
gelding  with  long  black  mane  and  tail,  with  a  great 
deal  of  style,  called  "Erin." 


the;  stats  tournament.  213 

Archie  Rhodes  from  Wilson,  "Knight  of  St.  An- 
thony," was  in  golden  brown  satin,  and  helmet  with 
golden  brown  plumes.  He  rode  a  bay  mare  with 
black  markings,  "Jewel"  by  name. 

John  Dodd  of  Raleigh,  "Knight  of  St.  Thomas," 
wore  a  grey  satin  costume  with  silver  trimmings,  and 
rode  a  grey  horse.  A  quiet  looking  horse,  though  a 
good  runner,  called  "Cyclone." 

George  Battle,  as  "Knight  of  St.  Louis,"  did  great 
credit  to  Rocky  Mount,  his  home.  His  costume  was 
gorgeous.  A  rich  scarlet  velvet,  trimmed  in  silver 
lace;  helmet  with  scarlet  plumes.  He  rode  the 
"Princess,"  a  beautiful  bay  mare  with  dappled  spots, 
showing  great  spirit  and  training. 

The  "Unknown  Knight,"  whose  identity  was 
unknown,  except  to  the  judges,  was  costumed  in  white 
and  gold  satin,  which  set  off  his  handsome  form  to 
perfection;  the  helmet,  white,  with  golden  plumes, 
white  gauntlets,  though  a  small  black  mask  covered 
his  eyes  and  mouth,  completed  the  most  elegant  cos- 
tume of  all  the  knights.  He  carried  at  first  a  shield 
of  gold  and  on  it  was  emblazoned  the  coat  of  arms 
of  North  Carolina. 

The  "Unknown  Knight"  had  evidently  come  from 
a  distant  county,  for  no  one  seemed  to  recognize  either 
horse  or  rider.  He  was  riding  a  chestnut  filly,  as 
neat  and  trim  a  little  animal  as  ever  entered  a  race; 
she  was  well  groomed,  and  truly  a  thoroughbred;  her 
flaxen  mane  and  tail  were  both  cropped  after  the  Eng- 
lish fashion;  her  head  was  small,  the  ears  also,  and 
keenly     pointed,     which     she     held     well     forward; 


214  FORGET- ME-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVII,   WAR. 

the  eyes  large  and  intelligent,  seemed  to  be- 
speak your  approval;  the  neck  long,  arched 
and  small,  she  carried  well  up,  and  needed 
no  check  rein;  her  limbs  were  small  and 
sinewy,  small  feet,  with  hoofs  so  polished  that  they 
reflected  the  objects  around;  she  was  not  a  restless 
steed,  but  on  the  contrary  would  close  her  eyes  and 
rest  whenever  an  opportunity  presented  itself,  but  once 
started  on  a  run  you  could  see  every  movement  was 
filled  with  life  and  quivering  with  suppressed  energy. 
A  word  or  touch  of  the  spur  acted  like  magic,  and 
like  the  wind  she  gathered  her  powers  from  some 
source  that  seemed  to  increase  when  called  upon. 

As  the  "Unknown  Knight"  sat  his  horse  as  part 
of  himself,  one  could  not  help  seeing  how  both  horse 
and  rider  were  as  graceful,  in  every  line,  as  ever  rode 
through  old  North  Carolina.  The  cavalier  was  never 
stamped  more  plainly  on  any  one  than  on  this  stranger 
knight. 

The  course  to  be  run  was  around  the  race  track.  An 
arch  had  been  built  across  the  track  where  the  finish 
was  made.  From  a  cross  bar  at  the  top  were  fastened 
at  regular  intervals,  four  iron  chains  with  hooks.  At 
the  lower  end  of  these  hooks  were  suspended  as  many 
iron  rings  two  inches  in  diameter,  and  could  be  easily 
lifted  off  by  the  lance,  which  measured  about  ten  feet 
in  length. 

The  knights  were  to  put  their  horses  in  a  run  and 
come  with  full  speed  from  the  quarter  stretch  to  the 
finish,  then  poising  their  lances,  lift  the  rings 
from  the  hooks  as  they  rode  underneath  them.     Each 


THE;   STATE)  TOURNAMENT.  215 

rider  was  assigned  a  number  and  position,  by  drawing 
for  them.  The  judges  and  grand  stands  were  oppo- 
site the  arch,  and  gave  full  view  of  the  knights  as 
they  finished  their  run.  The  knights  making  fastest 
time  and  the  ones  also  taking  a  ring  at  the  same  time 
to  be  counted  as  winners. 


Oh,  young  Lochinvar  is  come  out  of  the  West; 

Through  all  the  wide  border  his  steed  was  the  best; 
And  save  his  good  broad-sword,  he  weapons  had  none; 

He  rode  all  unarmed,  and  he  rode  all  alone. 
So  faithful  in  love  and  so  dauntless  in  war, 

There  never  was  knight  like  the  young  Lochinvar. 

— Sib  Walteb  Soott. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  Great  Race. 

The  hour  had  arrived  for  the  races  to  begin,  and  the 
great  bell  hanging  near  the  judges'  stand  began  to 
clang,  its  very  tones  vibrating  with  martial  sounds, 
as  it  seemed  to  bid  the  knights  to  come  forth  and 
show  the  crowd  that  the  days  of  chivalry  had  not 
passed,  and  to  bid  them  all  a  cordial  welcome.  Clang, 
clang,  clang  it  kept  repeating,  its  tones  gradually  dy- 
ing away  as  the  notes  of  a  bugler  clad  in  armour  rode 
forth  filling  the  air  with  the  "Turkish  Reveille."  Fol- 
lowing in  his  wake  came  the  noble  knights  in  such  a 
blaze  of  light  and  color  as  to  cause  the  multitude  to 
shout  for  the  very  pleasure  of  looking  upon  such  a 
gorgeous  spectacle. 

Twelve  knights  mounted  on  their  restive  steeds, 
whose  trappings  were  in  keeping  in  color  with  their 
masters'  costumes,  were  riding  four  abreast;  each 
thoroughbred  showing  they  were  perfectly  at  home 
on  this  circular  course.  They  pawed  the  soft  earth  so 
disdainfully  and  picked  their  dainty  little  feet  up  as 
daintily  as  a  grand  dame  might  have  done. 

"Snowball,"  "Black  Diamond"  and  "Brownie,"  co- 
quetting as  it  were,  with  the  others.  They  were  the  fa- 
vorites of  that  vast  throng,  as  they  halted  in  front  of 

217 


218  FORGET- MS-NOTS   OF  THE)   CIVIL,   WAR. 

the  judges'  stand  to  receive  the  instructions  and  rules 
of  the  tournament.  The  young  ladies  in  the  grand  stand 
had  suddenly  become  so  much  interested  and  excited 
in  the  "Unknown  Knight,"  he  could  not  pass  without 
such  applause  and  waving  of  handkerchiefs  as  must 
have  gratified  his  vanity.  The  very  fact  that  he  was 
masked  made  him  more  interesting  to  each  girl,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  curiosity  inherent  in  us  all. 

The  Knights  then  drew  a  number  and  had  a  posi- 
tion in  the  race  assigned  to  them,  then  clapping  spurs 
to  their  chargers,  they  each  in  their  respective  positions 
made  a  dash  around  the  track.  With  the  long  yellow 
lances  glittering  in  the  bright  sunlight,  like  burnished 
gold,  poised  in  the  air,  ready  for  the  tilt  when  the 
rings  would  be  lifted  off  the  hooks.  These  grand 
knights,  looking  like  they  belonged  to  another  age 
and  people,  made  a  gorgeous  spectacle,  and  one  long 
to  be  remembered  by  those  fortunate  enough  to  be 
present. 

The  race  track  was  a  mile  around  and  gave  a  test 
of  speed  and  physical  endurance  to  both  horses  and 
riders.  The  rider  having  to  maintain  his  position  on 
the  course  and  the  posture  of  his  lance  to  catch  off 
the  rings  as  he  passed  under  the  arch. 

After  a  dash  around  the  track,  the  first  division 
of  Knights  was  called.  These  four  made  a  great  show 
of  starting,  and  after  three  attempts  they  came  down  to 
the  arch  together,  the  flag  was  lowered  and  the  starter 
cried  "Go,"  and  away  they  went  at  full  gallop,  "Snow- 
ball" on  the  outside,  "Black  Diamond"  next  to  her, 
their  contrast  as  it  were  making  a  foil  for  each  other's 


the;  great  race.  219 

beauty.  "Brownie"  was  in  third  position,  while  "Erin" 
had  the  inside  of  the  track,  making  a  shorter  distance 
for  him  to  go,  besides  giving  him  the  advantage. 

The  horses  were  in  good  shape,  barring  a  curb  that 
"Erin"  carried  on  his  right  hock,  they  all  looked 
to  be  in  perfect  condition.  There  was  little  difference 
in  the  time  they  were  making,  and  only  at  the  quarter 
stretch  did  they  begin  to  make  an  effort.  "Erin's"  mas- 
ter making  a  plunge  forward  that  put  the  others  on 
their  guard,  and  each  in  turn,  either  by  spur  or  bridle, 
increased  their  speed.  Then  a  nose  would  be  seen  in 
front,  sometimes  a  head,  then  the  withers,  and  with 
lengthened  strides,  each  movement  brought  them  nearer 
to  the  arch.  Then  came  "Snowball,"  the  radiant,  darting 
a  luminous  light,  and  shot  past  the  others,  her  rider 
poised  in  position,  his  golden  lance  like  a  ray  of  yellow 
sunlight,  gleaming  along  the  track,  wrested  the  first 
ring  from  the  hook.  "Black  Diamond,"  his  coat  of 
glossy  black  glistening  like  a  sheen  of  satin,  began  to 
forge  a  trifle  ahead,  with  "Erin"  close  to  his  heels,  but 
suddenly  "Brownie,"  beginning  to  warm  up  to  her 
work,  rushed  past  "Erin,"  and  side  by  side  with  "Black 
Diamond,"  the  twain  came  thundering  down  the 
stretch,  and  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  finish.  The  arch 
was  almost  reached,  the  riders  had  assumed  the  pos- 
ture for  taking  off  the  rings,  when  "Erin's"  rider's 
lance  slipped  from  his  hand  as  he  was  tightening  his 
grip  on  it  and  struck  "Black  Diamond,"  causing  them 
to  rear  up  and  in  consequence  losing  the  rings. 
"Brownie's"  rider  made  a  dash  for  the  arch,  and  with 
his  steady  hand  and  eye  lifted  the  ring  on  his  lance 


220  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

and  was  accorded  second  place,  amid  loud  and  pro- 
longed applause. 

Then  they  made  their  way  back  to  the  paddock  to  be 
prepared  for  the  next  race.  Nealie  and  our  party  were 
so  excited  we  could  hardly  sit  still  for  fear  our  favor- 
ites would  not  win.  "How  glad  I  am  to  see  Ashley 
win  the  first  race,  for  he  has  tried  so  hard  to  make 
this  tournament  a  success,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  am  cer- 
tain he  will  win  easily,"  I  replied.  "But  see  there 
are  other  good  riders  too,"  she  remarked. 

A  few  moments  more  and  the  old  bell  began  to  clang 
again,  saying}  to  the  knights  now  entering  the  track, 
"Come  try  your  luck." 

Next  came  the  second  division  of  knights. 
"Beauty,"  a  red  sorrel,  whose  coat  was  a  sunny  red, 
was  a  dainty  little  thing,  with  a  big  white  star  in 
her  forehead.  She  tossed  her  proud  head  as  if  in 
defiance  of  her  competitors. 

"Queenie,"  a  roan,  not  pretty  to  look  at,  but  once 
on  the  run  was  a  graceful  racer. 

"Lucky  Boy,"  a  beautiful  blood-bay  gelding,  whose 
lines  were  built  in  a  more  generous  mould,  was  a  racy 
looking  fellow. 

"Cyclone,"  his  mate  in  build,  was  a  grey  with  dap- 
ples so  dark  that  all  the  ladies  exclaimed,  "O,  how 
beautiful !" 

These  four  knights  were  accorded  unstinted  applause 
as  they  passed  the  grand  stand.  When  the  bell  tapped 
they  were  in  position,  and  the  start  was  made  on 
the  second  attempt.  The  race  was  between  the  pairs, 
"Lucky  Boy"  and  "Cyclone"  on  the  outside,  neck  and 


the;  great  race;.  221 

neck,  while  "Beauty"  and  "Queenie"  were  side  by  side, 
near  the  rail.  The  half  mile  was  made  with  no  effort, 
but  when  the  three  quarters  was  reached,  "St.  Francis" 
put  spurs  to  the  "Cyclone"  and  he  shot  out  like  a 
bird,  and  getting  his  position  for  the  arch  he  grace- 
fully picked  off  a  ring,  amid  the  shouts  of  the  beholders. 

"St.  Thomas"  took  another  ring  at  the  moment 
"Queenie"  reached  the  arch,  and  her  master  vaulted 
lightly  in  his  saddle  and  took  another.  "Lochinvar" 
had  "Lucky  Boy"  well  in  hand,  but  a  swerve  of  the 
lance  and  he  missed  the  prize,  as  his  friends  groaned 
at  this  "unlucky  boy." 

Again  the  gong  sounded  and  out  rode  the  last  divis- 
ion of  knights. 

First  came  the  "Unknown  Knight"  mounted  on 
"Sunbeam,"  "Jewell,"  ridden  by  Knight  of  "St.  An- 
thony;" "Princess"  Master,  Knight  of  "St.  Louis," 
and  the  Spanish  Knight  riding  "Emperor,"  a  black 
stallion. 

These  four  were  gorgeous  in  costumes  and  trap- 
pings, and  elicited  round  after  round  of  applause.  The 
signal  was  given  and  they  made  the  start  that  sent 
them  off  on  the  first  trial.  The  crowd  almost  held  its 
breath  in  anticipation  of  the  finish.  "Sunbeam"  shot 
out  like  a  veritable  sun  burst  on  a  cloudy  day,  her 
master  gently  holding  her  back.  These  four  kept 
together  until  the  quarter  was  passed.  The  crowd 
yelled  louder  and  louder,  calling  for  their  favorites 
to  come  in  first.  "Sunbeam,"  with  no  more  effort  than 
a  ray  of  light  makes  to  pierce  the  darkness,  simply 
made  one  headlong  leap  and  she  was  a  length  ahead 


222  FORG£T-M£-NOTS   OF   TH£   CIVIL   WAR. 

of  her  rivals;  the  "Unknown  Knight"  vaulted  lightly  in 
his  saddle  and  slipped  off  a  ring  so  easily  that  shouts 
from  the  crowd  rent  the  air.  Following  closely  was 
"St.  Louis"  on  "Princess,"  the  grey  mare.  He  sat  as  if 
a  part  of  the  steed,  and  with  a  slight  rise  in  his  stir- 
rups, he  also  lifted  a  ring.  Then  "St.  Anthony,"  on 
"Jewel,"  clapped  spurs  to  his  charger,  and  with  his 
gilded  spear  gleaming  in  the  sunlight,  he  too  carried 
away  another  ring.  "Knight  of  Isabella,"  riding  the 
"Emperor,"  barely'  missing  by  a  slight  swerving  of  the 
lance. 

The  vast  throng  by  this  time  was  in  such  good 
humor  with  everything  that  they  accorded  to  these 
four  knights  such  prolonged  shouts  of  approval 
it  was  easily  seen  that  more  than  one  would  be  a 
winner  from  this  division. 

A  rest  was  allowed  for  grooming  and  getting  ready 
for  the  trial  and  test  race.  Such  chattering  among  the 
ladies.  "Now  who  in  the  world  is  the  "Unknown 
Knight?"  Isn't  he  handsome  even  with  his  mask 
hiding  so  much  of  his  face?" 

"I  wonder  if  we  know  him,"  was  whispered  among 
the  fair  ones.  We  all  made  guesses  and  bets  as  to 
who  he  might  be,  but  no  one  knew  or  would  tell,  so 
our  curiosity  only  gave  greater  enjoyment  to  the  rare 
sport. 

The  band  played  "The  Sweetest  Girl  in  Dixie,"  and 
the  gong  called  forth  the  first  division  for  the  second 
race.  "Henry  of  Navarre"  entered,  followed  by  "Star 
and  Garter,"  "St.  Patrick"  and  "Richard,  Couer  de 
Leon,"    when    the    bell    again    tapped    for    them    to 


THE  GREAT  RACE.  223 

start.  "Snowball"  was  first  in  her  place,  and 
steadily  kept  the  lead.  This  was  a  beautiful 
race,  even  if  no  rings  had  been  taken,  and 
the  spectators  nearly  shouted  themselves  hoarse,  call- 
ing for  their  favorites  to  come  in  first.  As  the  horses 
neared  the  arch,  each  rider  arose  as  one  man  to  get 
more  perfect  poise  of  lance,  and  at  the  same  instant 
all  four  were  at  the  arch,  ready  with  four  lances  glit- 
tering as  one.  "Henry  of  Navarre"  reached  and  took 
another  ring.  "Star  and  Garter"  a  second,  but  "St. 
Patrick"  and  "Richard,"  "Couer  de  Leon's"  horses 
became  frightened  and  bolted  from  the  track,  much  to 
the  regret  of  all  present. 

Then  came  an  ovation  to  "Henry  of  Navarre"  as  he 
rode  off  the  track,  and  Nealie  and  I  were  by  no  means 
silent,  but  cheered  and  waved  our  kerchiefs  as  he 
passed. 

Then  the  gong  sounded  again,  the  second  division 
of  the  second  race  came  forth.  "St.  Thomas"  in  the 
lead,  followed  by  "St.  John,"  "St.  Francis"  and 
"Lochinvar."  As  the  first  quarter  was  passed  "St. 
Thomas"  gathered  "Beauty,"  the  sorrel  filly,  up  with 
his  reins,  and  with  a  touch  of  the  golden  spurs,  she 
shot  out  like  a  cannon  ball,  passed  the  little  "Cyclone," 
as  the  knight  lifted  his  lance  and  took  off  another 
ring.  The  other  knights  failed  to  take  a  ring,  though 
they  made  one  of  the  fastest  records  that  day.  The 
applause  grew  louder,  and  waving  of  flags  and  hand- 
kerchiefs continued  till  the  knights  had  disappeared 
from  the  track. 

After  a  wait  of  fifteen  minutes  the  gong  sounded 


224  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE   THE   CIVIL  WAR. 

again,  and  out  rode  the  third  division  in  the  second 
race.  Not  one,  but  all  four  seemed  a  favorite  as  they 
rode  by  the  grand  stand;  they  were  massed  as  one, 
and  the  horses  kept  themselves  on  the  alert  as  it  were. 
"Sunbeam,"  "Emperor,"  "Jewel"  and  "Princess"  were 
each  quivering  with  suppressed  energy.  The  nearer 
they  drew  to  the  home  stretch,  and  as  each  rider,  pre- 
pared for  taking  a  ring,  faster  and  faster  flew  their 
chargers  until  with  a  bound  and  a  tilt  the  arch  was 
reached  and  the  "Unknown  Knight"  and  "St.  Louis" 
each  carried  away  a  ring. 

Such  applause  as  now  rent  the  air,  seemed  deafening 
and  bid  fair  to  continue  as  long  as  these  handsome 
knights  remained  on  the  track. 

Then  another  wait  of  fifteen  minutes,  during  which 
the  judges  declared  that  time  would  not  permit  more 
than  one  other  race  before  dark,  and  decided  to  have 
only  the  ones  who  had  taken  rings  first,  and  made 
faster  time,  enter  this  contest,  and  that  the  first  ones 
under  the  arch  to  take  off  a  ring,  should  be  declared 
first  winners.  This  seemed  as  much  a  race  of  speed 
as  of  skill  in  poise  and  directing  the  golden  lances. 
The  excitement  even  increased,  if  that  were  possible. 

The  bell  tapped  as  these  gallant  young  knights 
passed  the  grand  stand,  their  horses  as  it  were  keep- 
ing time  to  the  strains  of  "America,"  inspired  each 
knight  to  win  for  his  fair  lady.  By  this  time  the 
sporting  blood  was  aroused,  and  every  one  was  begin- 
ning to  make  bets,  even  the  girls  were  wagering  bon 
bons,  handkerchiefs,  etc.,  etc.,  while  the  men  were 
playing  for  larger  stakes. 


THE  GREAT  RACE.  225 

The  "Unknown  Knight"  was  not  a  favorite  among 
the  Clayton  men,  because  he  was  masked,  but  they  saw 
he  was  skillful  and  even  better  than  their  best.  They 
were  jealous  for  a  stranger  to  come  in  and  win  the 
laurels  from  the  home  talent,  but  still  it  must  be  a  fair 
field  and  no  favorites,  even  if  the  stranger  did  carry  off 
the  first  honors.  So  when  the  judges  named  the  "Un- 
known Knight"  winner  of  the  first  honors  there  was 
applause,  but  when  "Henry  of  Navarre"  came  second 
they  yelled  louder  and  showed  they  would  have  liked 
him  for  first. 

On  investigation  it  was  found  that  the  "Unknown 
Knight,"  "Henry  of  Navarre,"  "Richard  Couer  de 
Leon"  and  "St.  Thomas,"  had  made  faster  time  to 
the  arch  and  had  been  first  to  lift  a  ring  from  the 
hook,  so  they  were  to  ride  for  first  honors,  in  the 
same  order  as  the  time  they  had  made. 

A  more  beautiful  sight  I  have  never  seen  than  those 
four  knights  made  as  they  rode  forth  to  win.  The  bell 
tapped  amid  the  shouts  that  filled  the  air  and  away 
went  the  brave  riders.  "Henry  of  Navarre,"  "Richard 
Couer  de  Leon,"  "St.  Thomas"  and  the  "Unknown 
Knight,"  their  horses  almost  touched  each  other, 
and  faster  this  time  than  ever,  their  nostrils 
dilated,  until  they  seemed  living  coals  of  fire; 
their  every  nerve  so  tense,  they  stood  out  like 
whip  cords,  as  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  quarter 
stretch  they  drew,  hardly  a  hair's  breadth  ahead,  yet 
the  faster  their  fiery  steeds  seemed  to  fly,  the  nearer 
they  kept  together.  At  one  time  "Snowball's"  nose 
seemed  to  indicate  that  she  was  ahead,  and  then  such 


226  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

wild  shouts  for  "Henry  of  Navarre!"  "Come  on, 
Henry,  you  can  win  easily,  let  "Snowball"  out  and 
come  on !"  "Snowball" — so  each  one  seemed  a  fa- 
vorite as  their  friends  shouted  themselves  hoarse  for 
them,  such  a  ride  to  the  finish  has  never  been  seen 
since.  "Black  Diamond,"  at  one  moment  seemed  to 
be  a  fraction  ahead,  then  "Cyclone,"  but  "Sunbeam" 
had  never  in  the  slightest  changed  her  gait.  Her 
master  knew  she  was  doing  well  so  remained  per- 
fectly passive,  indeed  he  might  have  been  an  automaton 
for  anything  he  did,  until  "Henry  of  Navarre"  sunk 
the  golden  spurs  deeper  into  the  quivering  flesh  of 
"Snowball"  as  she  bounded  a  length  ahead,  the  "Un- 
known Knight,"  with  a  gentle  motion  of  the  bridle, 
gathered  the  reins  and  like  a  steam  engine,  she 
let  go  her  pent  up  forces  and  gave  a  sudden  burst 
of  speed  that  made  the  spectators  wild,  as  "Sunbeam" 
neared  the  arch.  "Henry  of  Navarre"  and  the 
stranger  Knight  so  close  together,  it  was  as  one  to 
the  onlookers.  So  they  continued  to  ride  neck  and 
neck  almost  to  the  finish.  "Sunbeam"  felt  "Snow- 
ball" almost  touching  her  flanks,  and  with  ears 
pricked  up,  eyes  dilated,  every  sinew  quivering  the 
two  riders  touching,  almost,  they  reached  the  quarter 
and  assumed  the  poise  for  the  taking  of  another  ring, 
when  a  flaw  of  wind  blew  the  mask  and  caused  it  to 
cover  the  eyes  of  the  "Unknown  Knight,"  as  he  was 
on  the  outside  and  nearest  the  grandstand,  the  spec- 
tators shouted  for  another  chance  to  be  given  him, 
apparently  heedless  to  everything  but  the  work  he  in- 
tended "Sunbeam"  to  do,  he  dropped  the  reins  from  his 


THE  GREAT  RACE.  227 

left  hand  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  adjusted 
the  mask  in  its  place  as  they  neared  the  arch.  With 
wild  yells  of  approval  at  this  master  stroke,  the  crowd 
shouted  "The  'Unknown  Knight'  wins !"  Standing  in 
his  stirrup  he  whispered  one-word  to  "Sunbeam,"  "go," 
one  touch  of  the  golden  spur  and  she  bounded  a  length 
ahead  of  "Snowball"  who,  with  the  instinct  of  her 
thoroughbred  nature,  and  blowing  her  hot  breath  on 
"Sunbeam's"  neck,  with  all  the  strength  and  force 
within  her,  struggled  to  keep  the  lead,  but  even  she 
had  no  more  reserve  force,  and  was  compelled  to  drop 
a  length  behincl.  "Sunbeam"  felt  the  guiding  hand  of 
her  master,  whose  calm  and  gentle  touch  like  an  electric 
charge  sent  renewed  vigor  and  life  into  her  quivering 
nerves.  One  second  more  and  she  would  reach  the 
arch,  and  with  the  hot  foam  burning  her  neck  she 
shook  herself  clear  of  her  rivals,  the  "Unknown 
Knight"  still  standing  in  his  stirrups,  the  golden  lance 
clutched  tightly  in  his  right  hand,  and  with  one  mighty 
bound  "Sunbeam"  reached  the  goal,  and  her  master 
took  off  the  coveted  ring — he  a  winner  of  first  honors 
and  she  the  queen  of  racers. 


The  lady,  in  truth,  was  young,  fair  and  gentle;   and  never 

was  given 
To   more   heavenly   eyes   the   pure   azure   of   heaven. 
Never  yet  did  the  sun  touch  to  ripples  of  gold 
Tresses  brighter  than  those  which  her  soft  hand  unrolled 
From  her  noble  and  innocent  brow,  when  she  rose, 
An  Aurora,  at  dawn,  from  her  balmy  repose, 
And  into  the  mirror  the  bloom  and  the  blush 
Of  her  beauty  broke,  glowing,  like  light  in  a  gush  from  the 

sunrise  in  summer. 

— Owen  Meredith. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
The  Crowning  of  Nfalif  for  Quffn. 

The  four  knights  with  faces  flushed,  great  beads 
of  perspiration  standing  on  their  foreheads,  but 
smiling,  rode  up  to  the  judges'  stand,  where  the 
names  were  read  out,  for  honors,  the  "Unknown 
Knight,"  first;  "Henry  of  Navarre,"  second;  "Richard 
Couer  de  Leon,"  third;  and  "St.  Thomas,"  fourth, 
amid  the  deafening  shouts  of  the  multitude. 

The  successful  knights  then  were  given  laurel 
wreaths,  which  they  placed  on  their  spears  and  riding 
around  to  the  grand  stand,  the  "Unknown  Knight" 
scanned  the  blushing  faces  of  all  this  bevy  of  pretty 
women,  finally  his  eyes  rested  on  Nealie,  and  without 
another  moment's  hesitation  he  dropped  the  wreath  at 
my  sister's  feet.  Blushing  deeply  she  stooped,  picked 
up  the  wreath  and  placed  it  on  the  golden  lance.  The 
"Unknown  Knight"  then  placed  it  around  the  neck  of 
"Sunbeam,"  as  if  to  show  how  much  he  appreciated 
her  efforts  at  helping  him  win  the  first  honors. 

Next  came  Ashley  Sidney,  as  "Henry  of  Navarre," 
but  with  such  a  scowl  of  dissatisfaction  on  his  face  that 
strangers  wondered  what  had  happened  to  cloud  his 
erstwhile  handsome  face.  Then  looking  up  and  down 
this  line  of  beautiful  faces,  he  finally  moved  along  and 

229 


230  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

deposited  the  laurel  wreath  at  the  feet  of  Miss  Nannie 
Johns,  the  belle  of  Wake  county.  She  colored  up  at 
the  honor,  and  with  a  bow  and  a  smile,  placed  the 
wreath  upon  his  lance. 

Then  came  Nat  Tomlinson,  the  third  knight,  and 
looking  as  if  to  find  the  one  pretty  face  among  the 
bevy  of  beauty,  he  dropped  the  wreath  at  the  feet  of 
Miss  Julia  Ellington.  Following  him  rode  forth  the 
last  of  the  victors,  and  with  a  happy  smiling  face,  his 
golden  lance  let  fall  the  wreath  at  the  feet  of  Mollie 
McCullers.  She  too  accepted,  with  visible  pleasure, 
the  honor  Mr.  Bijou  Satre  conferred  on  her.  Follow- 
ing the  example  of  their  chief,  each  knight  placed  the 
wreath  of  laurel  around  the  necks  of  the  faithful 
steeds,  that  had  made  it  possible  for  them  to  win.  The 
four  champions  clapped  spurs  to  their  horses  and 
away  they .  went  around  the  track  again,  amid  the 
shouts  and  applause  of  the  multitude.  I  was  sitting 
near  Nealie  and  her  friends  and  felt  quite  as  pleased 
as  if  the  honors  had  been  mine.  Glancing  at 
her  beautiful  face,  aglow  with  joy  and  excite- 
ment, I  thought  he  could  not  conscientiously  have  done 
other  than  to  crown  her  the  real  Queen  of  Beauty. 
She  was  surrounded  as  usual  by  a  number  of  admirers, 
of  both  sexes,  who  had  enjoyed  everything  to  the  full- 
est that  day  so  long  to  be  remembered  by  us  all. 
After  awhile  I  arose  and  slipping  in  a  vacant  seat 
near  her,  took  her  hand  and  said,  "I  am  so  glad." 
She  whispered  "What  will  Ashley  say?  He  told  me 
he  meant  to  crown  me,  but  Bettie,"  she  murmured  in  a 
low   tone,    "I   could   not   resist,   when   the   successful 


THE)  CROWNING  OF   NFAUF  FOR  QUFFN.  231 

knight  scanned  the  faces  of  this  galaxy  of  beautiful 
women  and  laid  the  wreath  at  my  feet,  do  anything 
else  but  accept  the  honor,  for  I  consider  it  the  high- 
est compliment  to  be  chosen  Queen,  when  there  are 
others  more  beautiful  than  I,  besides  I  know  the 
"Unknown  Knight"  is  a  gentleman,  for  the  committee 
have  had  all  the  names  for  a  month,  and  none  but 
the  best  from  the  "Old  North  State"  were  permitted  to 
enter  the  contest."  "You  ought  to  be  the  Queen 
because  you  are  the  very  prettist  girl  here,"  I  re- 
marked. "I  am  so  glad,  just  think  Bettie  what  it 
means  for  a  rank  stranger  to  select  me  from  among 
all  these  pretty  girls,"  she  replied.  "Well,  you  are 
the  very  prettiest  here,  to  my  thinking,  sister,"  I  whis- 
pered. "Oh,  pshaw,  that's  because  you  love  me  so 
much."  Here  she  gave  my  hand  a  little  squeeze.  Just 
then  the  chairman  of  the  committee  came  up  and  said, 
"Ladies,  I  wish  you  to  remain  seated  a  few  moments 
longer.  I  wish  to  present  the  Knights  to  you,  so  you 
may  make  all  suitable  arrangements  about  the  ball  this 
evening.  The  Queen,  Miss  Lee,  lives  here  in  Clay- 
ton and  will  take  pleasure  in  telling  you  how  to  find 
the  things  necessary." 

My  sister  knew  all  the  maids,  except  Miss  Johns, 
and  as  the  introduction  was  being  made  she  took 
occasion  to  invite  the  maids  to  our  house  to  take  sup- 
per and  dress  for  the  ball,  as  the  hotel  accommodations 
were  very  poor.  They  seemed  pleased  to  be  the  guest 
of  the  Queen  and  have  a  chance  to  talk  over  the  all 
important  matter  of  dress  for  the  evening. 

"Oh,  Col.  Fairbault,  please  tell  me  who  my  gallant 


232  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR. 

Knight  is,  and  what's  his  name,  and  where's  his 
name,"  my  sister  pleaded. 

"Here  they  come;  allow  me,  Miss  Lee,  to  present 
Mr.  Howell  of  old  Wake  county,  of  course  you've 
heard  of  Tom  Howell  many  times,  for  his  fame  has 
gone  abroad  as  a  tournament  rider." 

Then  each  maid  met  her  knight.  Tom  Howell  came 
up,  flushed  with  his  success,  as  handsome  as  Apollo, 
his  classical  face  was  not  more  handsome  than 
his  manly  form.  There  was  a  personal  mag- 
netism about  him  that  he  impressed  on  every  one. 
To  me,  a  miss  of  fourteen,  he  appeared  a  veritable 
king,  even  Ashley  Sidney,  whom  I  had  always  thought 
so  handsome,  faded  now  into  an  ordinary  looking 
man. 

After  the  introductions  were  over  and  these  royal 
personages  were  arranging  to  escort  the  ladies  to 
our  house,  I  slipped  away  unnoticed  to  help  Aunt  Pal- 
las prepare  supper,  and  tell  her  all  about  the  "Toona- 
munt,"  as  she  called  it. 

"Well,  I  alius  knowd  Pussie  wuz  de  purtiest  child 
her  mammy  ever  had,  but  you  poah  little  ugly  Betsey 
shor'll  never  be  a  Queen." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  somebody  in  the  family  is  anyway," 
I  curtly  replied,  not  relishing  the  fact  that  I  was  so 
ugly  that  I  never  could  be  a  "Queen." 


In  the  midst  was  seen, 

A  lady  of  a  more  majestic  mien, 
By  stature  and  by  beauty  marked  their  Sovereign  Queen. 

And   as  in  beauty  she  surpassed  the  choir, 
So  nobler  than  the  rest  was  her  attire; 

A  crown  of  ruddy  gold  enclosed  her  brow, 
Plain  without  pomp,  and  rich  without  a  show, 

A  branch  of  Agnus  Cactus  in  her  hand, 
She  bore  aloft  her  symbol  of  command. 

The  Flower  and  the  Leaf. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
The;  Coronation  Ball. 

That  evening  I  was  called  upon  many  times  to  help 
the  Queen  and  maids  array  themselves  in  all  their 
finery.  My  sister  Nealie  had  made  a  simple  white 
mull,  not  knowing  that  she  would  be  the  most  honored 
lady  in  the  state  that  evening  at  least,  and  her  beauty 
was  the  more  enhanced  for  this  very  simplicity.  The 
filmy  mull  had  a  touch  of  old  Brussels  lace,  the  waist 
made  with  a  round  neck  from  which  fell  a  bertha  of 
the  same.  From  the  short  sleeves  depended  a  fall 
of  this  lace.  The  skirt  was  tucked  with  insertions  of 
the  same.  She  wore  no  jewels  save  a  necklace  of 
pearls,  that  had  belonged  to  my  father's  mother,  and 
had  been  saved  for  us  by  Mr.  Bunting,  the  guard  Gen- 
eral Sherman  sent  to  us.  Her  beautiful  sunbrown 
hair  was  done  in  a  Psyche  knot,  with  masses  of  little 
curls  peeping  out.  When  I  tied  the  white  sash  around 
her  slender  waist  and  saw  reflected  from  the  mirror 
the  most  beautiful  vision  of  loveliness  I  could  not 
help  feeling  a  pang  of  something  akin  to  envy,  and 
I  know  the  other  girls  felt  the  same. 

Nannie  Johns  wore  a  pale  pink  lute  string  silk  with 
cream  ^Spanish  lace  trimmings.  Mbllie  McCuller's 
was  gowned  in  pale  blue  organdie.     Julia  Ellington 

235 


236  FORG£T-M£-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVII,   WAR. 

looked  lovely  in  a  white  dotted  swiss  trimmed  in  Valen- 
ciennes lace. 

When  the  omnibus  drew  up  to  our  gate  and  these 
gallant  knights  took  their  Queen  and  maids  to  the  ball, 
it  was  truly  a  novel  sight.  When  they  reached  the 
ball  room  all  the  balance  of  the  knights  who  had  con- 
tested in  the  afternoon,  met  them  at  the  door  and 
escorted  the  party  to  the  platform,  where  the  judges 
were  seated. 

Col.  Fairbault  arose  as  these  couples  drew  near, 
and  in  a  few  remarks,  complimented  the  knights  on 
their  excellent  taste  in  selecting  these  beautiful  girls 
to  wear  the  honors,  and  as  four  little  girls  preceded 
them,  dressed  in  white,  bearing  crimson  velvet  cushions 
on  which  were  resting  the  jewelled  crowns.  The 
Queen's  was  a  fac-simile  of  Queen  Victoria's,  the 
others  more  like  the  ducal  coronets. 

When  Col.  Fairbault  finished  his  speech,  he  took  the 
crown  and  presented  it  to  the  knight,  who  then  placed 
it  on  the  brow  of  my  sister,  Nealie,  each  knight  crown- 
ing his  fair  lady;  then  the  Coronation  March  was 
played  by  Johnston's  band  from  Wilmington.  This 
grand  march  was  led  by  the  successful  knights  and 
ladies,  Tom  Howell  and  my  sister  leading. 

Ashley  was  jealous  of  another  winning  the  coveted 
prize  of  crowning  the  Queen  of  love  and  beauty  on 
this  auspicious  occasion,  especially  since  that  one  was 
the  girl  he  had  loved  so  long.  Still  there  was  enough 
of  the  chevalier  in  his  make  up  to  bear  the  disappoint- 
ment without  an  outward  sign  to  his  opponent.  So 
much  for  the  schooling  he  had  received  while  being  a 


the  coronation  balIv.  237 

soldier  in  the  war;  and  the  old  saying  "that  all's  fair 
in  love  and  war,"  made  him  willing  to  give  this  stran- 
ger a  chance  to  meet  and  possibly  win  the  girl  he 
loved. 

As  the  evening  advanced  my  sister  Nealie  remarked 
to  Mr.  Tom  Howell,  "It  was  so  kind  of  you  to  crown 
me  Queen,  when  I  was  a  stranger  and  you  knew  Miss 
Johns,  too.  I  can't  understand  why  you  selected  me," 
she  innocently  remarked.  He  simply  remarked,  "Why 
does  the  magnet  turn  to  the  pole?"  She  ignored  this, 
but  when  the  next  waltz  with  Ashley,  he  said,  "Nealie, 
I  can't  bear  to  see  you  with  Tom  Howell,  and  I  want 
you  to  tell  me  tonight,  that  my  love  for  you  all  these 
years  is  not  in  vain,  that  a  handsome  fellow  like  How- 
ell can't  come  in  and  win  you  from  me.  Promise  me 
now  that  you  will  marry  me  before  the  winter  is  over. 
I  can  make  you  comfortable  and  I  will  not  let  a 
stranger  come  and  take  you  from  me.  Promise  me 
now  to  be  my  wife.  I  can't  have  Howell  and  myself 
both  paying  court  to  you  at  the  same  time." 

She  looked  up  into  his  lovelit  brown  eyes  and  saw 
there  a  love  that  only  death  would  obliterate,  and 
answered  timidly,  "I  will  be  your  wife,  Ashley,  never 
fear  Tom  Howell.  I  am  not  so  fickle  as  you  may 
think." 

That  night  when  Mr.  Howell  escorted  her  home 
from  the  ball  and  was  ready  to  leave,  he  asked,  "Miss 
Lee,  will  you  permit  me  to  visit  you  sometime  in  the 
near  future?  I  must  see  you  before  long,  don't  put 
it  off."  She  hesitated,  and  then  remembering  how 
long  he  had  loved  her  and  how  loyal  Ashley  had  been, 


238  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

replied,  "Mr.  Howell,  you  have  paid  me  the  highest 
compliment  by  crowning  me  Queen  of  this  ball,  and  I 
sincerely  thank  you  and  greatly  appreciate  the  honor, 
and  I  offer  you  the  hospitality  of  my  home  at  any  time, 
but  I  must  be  frank  with  you  and  tell  you  that  I  am  en- 
gaged to  Mr.  Sidney  and  will  be  married  very  shortly. 
I  could  not  embarrass  you  this  afternoon  by  refusing 
the  crown,  but  thought  the  easiest  way  was  to 
accept  it.  Again  I  thank  you  very  much.  He  took  her 
hand  and  pressed  it,  as  he  said  "Farewell,  Miss  Lee,  I 
envy  Sidney  more  than  you'll  ever  know,"  and  he  was 
gone. 


Two  wedded  from  the  portals  stept: 
The  bells  made  happy  carollings, 
The  air  was  soft  as  fanning  wings, 
White  petals  on  the  pathway  slept, 

O  pure-eyed  bride! 

O  tender  pride! 

— George  Elliot. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
The;  Marriage  oe  Ashley  and  Nealie. 

It  took  the  staid  little  town  of  Clayton  some  time 
to  recover  from  the  effects  of  the  great  state  tourna- 
ment. Such  a  grand  event,  gave  the  inhabitants  food 
for  gossip  for  many  months,  the  pride  that  each  one 
felt  in  living  in  such  a  town  as  had  immortalized  itself 
by  such  deeds  of  knight  errantry,  showed  either  in  the 
conversation  or  the  manner  of  our  people.  No  other 
town  in  the  "Old  North  State,"  before  nor  since  the 
war,  had  been  able  to  do  more  than  show  little 
riding  contests,  but  to  give  a  tournament  in 
regal  costumes,  and  then  the  Queen  being  a  native 
of  that  town  and  the  second  best  rider  a  resi- 
dent from  his  birth,  was  enough  to  make  Claytonites 
so  exclusive  that  many  years  passed  before  they  even 
cared  for  the  town  to  grow  any  more  lest  they  would 
blot  out  the  old  race  track  or  destroy  some  other  land- 
marks of  past  greatness;  indeed  no  one  wanted  any 
strangers  within  her  gates,  for  we  were  sufficient  unto 
ourselves.  Ashley  and  Nealie,  however,  decided  to 
marry  at  an  early  day,  while  I  continued  to  trudge 
daily  to  the  old  Academy  to  learn  what  Prof.  White 
could  teach  me. 

The  wedding  of  Nealie  and  Ashley  was  quietly 
241 


242  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

celebrated,  both  of  them  preferring  it  should  be  so. 
The  ceremony  was  performed  by  Dr.  Ellington,  and 
they  went  immediately  to  the  little  home  he  had  pre- 
pared for  her. 

My  mother  did  not  give  her  up  willingly,  for  her 
children  were  so  much  a  part  of  herself,  it  was  like 
tearing  her  heart  out,  still  the  nearness  to  our  home 
and  the  good  man  she  was  getting  made  her  see  the 
wisdom  of  such  a  choice,  and  put  no  obstacles  in  the 
way. 

It  was  odd  to  see  such  a  "queen  among  men,"  as 
Nealie  had  always  been,  settle  down  to  domestic  life, 
and  seem  perfectly  happy  with  the  admiration  and 
love  of  one  man,  for  she  had  played  with  many  a 
young  man's  heart,  though  I  believe  she  was  always 
sincere  and  honest  in  it  at  the  time. 

There  seemed  so  few  ways  of  amusing  ourselves 
after  the  tournament,  that  our  young  people  had  re- 
course to  many  things,  but  everything  seemed  tame 
compared  to  that  great  event.  Yet  we  girls  were  still 
hoping  that  something  equally  as  exciting  might  come 
along,  though  the  only  real  excitement  was  caused  by 
"trying  our  fortunes"  in  various  ways.  The  first  day 
of  May  was  auspicious  for  such  things  as  looking  in 
the  well  to  see  our  future  husband  reflected  from  a 
mirror,  which  we  held  over  the  well ;  sometimes  a  face 
would  be  reflected  and  sometimes,  the  old  maids  tell 
us,  that  a  coffin  would  appear  instead,  and  that  was  a 
sure  sign  that  we  would  always  remain  single,  but 
another  better  and  surer  way  "to  try  our  future"  was 
on  Hallow  E'en.     One  of  my  friends  told  me  of  such 


the;  marriage;  of  ashl,Ey  and  neaue.  243 

a  new  way,  that  we  made  up  our  minds  to  try  it  when 
Hallow  E'en  came.  Addie  Terrel  came  over  to  see 
me  and  said : 

"Well,  Bettie,  tonight  is  the  time  to  try  our  for- 
tunes and  see  if  we  are  ever  to  marry,  or  are  doomed 
to  be  old  maids."  "Are  you  going  to  try  it  the  egg 
fashion?"  I  asked.  "Yes,  we  both  have  to  cook  an 
egg  and  peel  it,  then  cut  into  halves,  taking  out  the 
yolk,  filling  the  whites  with  table  salt,  and  eating  these 
without  drinking  one  drop  of  water,  or  other  kind  of 
liquid,  and  going  to  bed  to  dream  of  your  future  hus- 
band giving  you  a  drink  of  water,  and  which  if  given 
in  a  gourd  means  you  will  mar^  a  poor  man,  but  if 
given  in  a  glass,  means  he  will  be  rich.  During  the 
whole  time  you  are  preparing  the  egg,  both  of  us  have 
to  do  everything  at  the  same  time,  for  instance  like 
both  taking  hold  of  the  egg  and  both  putting  it  on  to 
boil,  both  taking  it  out  and  both  peeling  and  cutting 
it  in  two,  and  eating  it  also  at  the  same  time,  but  be 
sure  to  keep  silent,  for  if  one  word  is  spoken  from  the 
beginning  until  the  night  is  over  and  you  have 
dreamed,  the  charm  will  be  broken,  and  it  will  be  no 
use  to  proceed  further  with  trying  to  find  out  who  our 
future  husbands  will  be,  and  whether  we  shall  marry 
rich  or  poor  men." 

It  was  one  of  the  most  difficult  feats  I  ever  tried 
to  perform,  to  keep  from  speaking,  and  to  keep  from 
laughing  was  even  worse,  and  I  am  sure  we  did  snicker 
once  or  twice  before  we  finished  our  repast.  We  both 
dreamed,  but  my  friend's  dream  was  easily  inter- 
preted, for  the  young  man  that  gave  her  the  drink 
of  water  was  one  we  both  knew. 


244  FORGET-MK-NOTS   OF   TH£   CIVIL  WAR. 

"Well,  Addie"  I  said,  "my  dream  is  so  confused 
I  can't  interpret  any  of  it,  except  I  was  given  a  drink 
of  water  in  a  glass  mug,  with  the  handle  broken  off, 
so  I  think  that  signifies  that  he  will  not  be  so  very 
rich  after  all.  The  young  man  was  handsome,  though, 
and  his  genial  nature  shone  out  even  in  my  dream, 
but  I  am  sure  he  will  belong  to  the  circus  or  some- 
thing queer,  for  he  was  riding  in  one  of  the  oddest 
looking  turnouts  I  ever  saw.  Oh,  pshaw,  I  wish  I 
had  dreamed  of  somebody  I  know,  like  you  did." 

How  much  of  this  strange  story  became  the  truth, 
I  leave  my  readers  to  find  out. 


FATE. 

Two  shall  be  born,  the  whole  wide  world  apart, 

And  speak  in  different  tongues,  and  have  no  thought 

Each  of  the  other's  being,  and  no  heed; 

And  these  o'er  unknown  seas  to  unknown  lands 

Shall  cross,  escaping  wreck,  defying  death; 

And   all  unconsciously  shape  every  act 

And  bend  each  wandering  step  to  this  one  end — 

That  one  day,  out  of  darkness,  they  shall  meet 

And  read  life's  meaning  in  each  other's  eyes. 

And  two  shall  walk  some  narrow  way  of  life, 

So  nearly  side  by  side  that  should  one  turn 

Ever  so  little  space  to  left  or  right, 

They  must  needs  acknowledge  face  to  face; 

And  yet  with  wistful  eyes  that  never  meet, 

With  groping  hands  that  never  clasp,  and  lips 

Calling  in   vain  to   ears   that  never  hear, 

They  seek  each  other  all  their  weary  days, 

And  die  unsatisfied — and  this  is  Fate. 

— Susan  M.  Spalding. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
The  Conquering  Hero  Comes. 

The  day  was  glorious,  flooded  with  sunshine  and 
melody.  The  song  birds  were  singing  their  sweet 
songs  of  love  to  their  listening  mates.  The  very  air 
was  filled  with  music,  for  every  little  warbler  in  that 
vast  forest  was  sending  out  a  roundelay  of  song.  The 
sky  was  perfectly  clear  and  the  "azure  depths"  so 
far  away  seemed  that  nothing  could  cast  a  shadow 
over  them. 

From  the  West  came  a  rumbling  noise,  and  pres- 
ently a  beautiful  pair  of  blooded  bays  came  into  view, 
drawing  what  might  be  a  circus  wagon,  or  a  wagon 
from  the  fire  department.  The  noise  and  rumble  inter- 
rupted this  musicale  that  the  birds  were  giving,  and 
disturbed  the  harmony  of  all  nature  on  this  peaceful 
day. 

Seated  upon  a  curiously  constructed  vehicle  were 
two  men  on  a  high  driver's  seat.  One  was  a  young 
man,  apparently  about  nineteen,  and  a  colored  driver. 
Coming  near  the  cross  roads,  the  driver  looking  up 
asked,  "Which  road  mus'  I  let  de  hosses  take,  Mars 
Jess?"  "Oh,  it  don't  matter,  Henderson,  give  the 
horses  the  reins  and  let  them  go  the  way  they  will, 
it's  all  luck." 

247 


248  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVII,   WAR. 

The  driver  then  slackened  the  reins  and  the  horses 
stopped  a  moment,  looked  down  the  roads,  and  with 
a  toss  of  the  head,  the  leader  started,  the  off  horse 
looked  approvingly  at  the  other,  and  they  both  started 
down  the  East  road. 

"Henderson,"  said  the  young  man,  "I  believe  they 
have  taken  the  Smithfield  road,  but  I  reckon  it  is  as 
good  as  the  Fayetteville,  and  we  shall  find  as  much 
work  on  it." 

"I  think  we  have  several  hours  of  hard  driving  be- 
fore we  reach  a  town  or  village,  suppose  you  let  the 
horses  step  along  some." 

Then  they  lapsed  into  silence  for  a  few  moments, 
but  the  young  man,  evidently  of  a  happy  turn,  began 
to  whistle,  "Won't  You  Love  Me,  Mollie  Darling," 
which  tune  he  continued  to  whistle  until  the  song-birds 
of  the  forest  had  long  since  quit  their  warbling  to 
listen  to  this  strange  music  that  filled  the  air.  Finally 
he  stopped  and  said,  "Henderson,  tomorrow  is  Sun- 
day and  we  must  stop  at  the  first  village  we  reach.  I 
don't  want  to  spend  Sunday  with  the  farmers." 

"Dat's  right,  Mars  Jess,  dey  shore  ain't  no  fun 
hangin'  around  dese  piney  woods,  and  I  sutlinly  hope 
you'll  get  to  a  town."  "Yes,  Henderson,  you  want 
to  get  where  you  can  get  something  to  drink."  "Yas, 
sar,  I  don't  mind  if  I  do,  seeins  how  hit's  Sunday  and 
dere  ain't  no  place  for  me  to  'tend  church." 

Then  the  young  man  began  to  whistle  "Molly  Dar- 
ling" again,  and  only  the  rattle  of  the  vehicle  and 
the  barking  of  a  dog  now  and  then  broke  the  stillness. 

The  horses  were  a  pair  of  beauties,  deep  blood  bays, 


THE  CONQUERING  HERO  COMES.  249 

with  a  white  star  on  forehead,  the  only  touch  of  color. 
The  limbs  were  small  with  black  markings,  the  long 
flowing  mane  and  tail  giving  grace  to  their  move- 
ments. Their  heads  were  small, — keen  pointed  ears 
standing  straight  forward,  with  mild  eyes,  though 
spirited  looking.  They  were  well  rounded  and  sleek 
as  satin,  and  it  was  hard  to  tell  which  was  the  faster. 
Such  a  perfect  match  had  not  been  easy  to  find,  and 
the  young  man  seemed  to  know  it  and  look  upon  them 
with  eyes  that  bespoke  how  proud  he  was  of 
them.  The  young  man  himself  was  well 
worth  looking  at.  He  was  a  fair  haired  youth,  with 
clear  healthy  complexion,  a  nose  rather  aquiline,  deep 
set  blue  eyes,  a  brow  that  was  broad  and  full.  The 
mouth  was  well  shaped,  the  corners  of  which  turned 
up,  giving  his  face  a  mirthful  and  happy  expression. 
He  was  smooth  shaven,  and  showed  a  chin  that  was 
well  shaped,  though  not  prominent;  while  it  could  not 
be  called  weak,  it  lacked  fullness  to  show  a  more  hand- 
some face.  His  form  was  of  medium  height  and  his 
massive  military  shoulders  and  chest  showed  such  a 
fine  development  that  he  appeared  less  tall  than  he 
really  was.  His  arms  and  limbs  were  muscular,  as  if 
trained  in  a  gymnasium.  His  hands  and  feet  were 
noticeably  small.  Altogether  he  bore  the  marks  of 
aristocratic  breeding  and  a  highly  refined  face. 

Still  they  continued  on  their  way,  and  the  shadows 
lengthened  until  the  sun,  no  longer  visible,  had  sunk 
behind  the  western  hills.  The  cotton  fields,  now  in 
full  flower,  were  being  deserted  by  the  darkies  who 
had  been  chopping  cotton  all  day,  and  still  no  town 


250  FORGET- ME-NOTS   Of  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

or  village  seemed  near  to  the  travelers.  Finally  Hen- 
derson called  to  one  of  the  hands  to  know  how  much 
farther  he  had  to  drive  to  reach  town.  "Jest  about 
two  miles,"  was  the  answer. 

The  tall  pines  standing  as  sentinels  along  the  road 
side  were  no  longer  to  be  seen,  and  in  the  distance 
might  be  seen  the  little  town  of  Clayton.  Henderson 
drove  along  the  main  street  until  he  reached  a  hotel 
of  rather  poor  pretentions.  Alighting,  the  young  man 
went  inside  for  a  moment  and  asked  if  he  could  be 
housed  for  the  night  and  next  day,  with  accommoda- 
tions for  both  horses  and  driver.  An  answer  in  the 
affirmative  was  given  him,  and  he  went  back  to  his 
team  and  vehicle. 

In  the  meantime  a  large  crowd  of  boys  had  gathered 
to  find  out  what  this  oddly  built  carriage  was.  One 
boy,  more  inquiring  and  curious  than  the  others,  could 
not  resist  asking,  "What  might  this  be,  Mister?  Are 
you  with  a  circus?"  "No  sir,  I  am  not  now,  but  I 
don't  know  how  soon  I  may  be." 

He  was  busy  unlocking  something  like  a  chest,  and 
from  this  vehicle  he  took  a  banjo.  The  urchins  still 
consumed  with  curiosity,  and  not  getting  any  satis- 
faction from  the  young  man,  the  same  interrogator, 
not  liking  to  give  up,  blurted  out,  "I'd  give  a  yoke 
of  oxen  to  know  what  this  thing  is."  "Well,  if  you 
won't  ask  any  more  questions,  I'll  tell  you."  "No,  I 
won't  ask  any  more  if  you  tell  me,"  said  he.  "Well, 
it  is  a  Thunder  Pole  Wagon,"  said  the  young  man, 
whereat  the  poor  chap  looked  more  puzzled  than  ever. 
Some  one  in  the  crowd  cried  out,  "He  means  a  light- 


THE  CONQUERING   HERO  COMES.  251 

ning  rod  wagon."  "Smart  boy,  go  to  the  head  of  the 
class,"  said  the  owner,  whereupon  he  set  to  asking 
questions  himself  about  the  size  of  the  town,  the 
churches,  etc.  The  wise  young  man  answered  his 
questions,  and  when  he  told  him  that,  there  were  two 
churches,  a  Methodist  and  a  Baptist,  our  friend  said, 
"Bully,  I'll  get  to  go  to  church  tomorrow  anyhow." 
"Yes,  but  not  till  after  a  big  baptizing  comes  off  .at 
Stallings  Mill  Pond,  then  Dr.  Harrell  will  preach  at 
the  Baptist  church."  "Dr.  Harrell,  did  you  say?  Why 
he  married  my  sister  and  was  living  in  Selma  when 
I  heard  from  them  last,  but  then  old  preachers  are 
kept  moving  around.  Where  do  they  live?"  His  in- 
formant told  him  how  he  might  reach  the  home  of 
his  sister. 

"Any  pretty  girls  around  here?"  asked  our  young 
friend.  "Oh,  a  few,  but  they  most  all  have  fellers." 
"That  so?  Huh!  I  don't  mind  to  meet  a  fellow  if  I 
can  get  to  see  a  pretty  girl  once  in  a  while,"  said  he. 
"Well,  Dr.  Harrell's  girls  are  mighty  pretty,  and  lively 
to  beat  the  band,  but  our  native  born  pretty  girls  are 
Lizzie  and  Evelyn  Creech,  Bettie  Stallings  and  Bettie 
Lee."  "Why  so  many  Betties?"  "I  don't  know  but 
I  reckon  it  was  the  fashion  to  name  'em  Bettie  at 
that  time."  "Which  is  the  prettiest  one?"  "Well, 
that's  according  to  your  taste,  you  better  see  'em  first." 

After  his  baggage  had  been  removed  and  Hender- 
son given  directions  where  to  take  the  turnout,  the 
young  man  went  in  the  hotel  and  going  to  the  register, 
took  the  pen  and  wrote  upon  a  clean  page,  "Jesse  Mer- 
cer, Wilson,  North  Carolina."     After  supper,  taking 


252  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF   THE    CIVIL    WAR. 

his  banjo  under  his  arm,  he  started  to  find  his  sister's 
home,  they  were  more  than  surprised  to  see 
him,  his  evening  was  spent  most  pleasantly,  as  the 
girls  were  very  fond  of  music  and  he  was  too,  they 
all  made  merry  till  late  that  evening. 

"Well,  girls,  what  are  you  going  to  do  tomorrow?" 
asked  Jesse,  as  he  was  leaving.  "Going  to  the  baptiz- 
ing at  Stallings  Mill,"  they  both  cried  in  one  breath. 
"Very  well,  I'll  take  you  on  my  lightning  rod  wagon," 
said  he.  "Oh  no,  Uncle  Jesse,  we're  sorry,  but  we 
can't  go  with  you,  for  we  have  planned  to  go  with 
Vic  Thompson  and  Bettie  Lee  in  his  dump-cart,"  said 
Ida,  the  oldest  girl.  "The  dickens  you  are,  and  who 
is  Bettie  Lee?"  "Oh,  Jesse,"  said  his  sister  Ann,  "she's 
the  prettiest  thing  you  ever  saw  in  your  life."  "She 
has  big  brown  eyes,"  said  Rosa,  "and  she  has  skin 
as  white  as  a  snow  bank,"  said  his  sister  Ann.  "She's 
tall  and  slender,"  chimed  in  Ida,  "and  has  a  beautiful 
nose,  though  very  small  and  a  large  mouth,  but  she 
is  really  a  pretty  girl,  but  Uncle  Jesse,  she  can't  sing 
a  note,  for  father  tried  to  test  her  voice  to  sing  in 
the  choir  and  she  broke  down  and  cried  before  us  all 
and  couldn't  even  sing  the  scales."  "Well,  I  don't 
care,  Jesse,"  said  his  sister,  "you'll  fall  in  love  with 
her  the  moment  you  lay  your  eyes  on  her."  "Golly, 
but  I'd  like  to  see  her.  I  can  hardly  wait  till  tomor- 
row." "Well,  she  has  lots  of  beaux,  and  that's  why 
she  is  going  with  Vic  to  get  rid  of  the  whole 
bunch  for  one  day."  "Oh,  we  are  going  to  have  a 
picnic  in  that  dump-cart,"  said  Rosa.  "Vic  is  my 
sweetheart  now,  but  every  now  and  then  he  goes  to 


the:  conquering  hero  comes.  253 

see  Bettie  and  tells  her  how  much  he  loves  her,  but 
she  just  laughs  at  him  and  tells  him  she  knows  he 
has  had  a  falling  out  with  his  sweetheart.  She  likes 
him  too  well  as  a  friend  to  let  him  mistake  friendship 
for  love,  and  he  always  keeps  her  for  a  friend,  and 
she  looks  upon  him  as  a  confidant  and  true  friend." 

"Well,  I  am  going  to  find  some  of  her  beaux  to  go 
with  me  to  the  baptizing,  and  see  what  they  say  about 
this  beauty." 

"Well,  Uncle  Jesse,"  said  Ida,  "Bettie  would  rather 
run  out  to  keep  the  calf  from  drinking  the  milk  than 
to  entertain  a  porch  full  of  young  men  and  lose  the 
milk.  Why  I  declare,  Uncle  Jesse,  father  was  there 
and  saw  her  look  out  on  the  street  and  see  a  little  calf 
get  out  of  a  pasture  and  run  to  its  mother  and  begin 
to  drink  the  milk,  when  Bettie  jumped  off  the  porch 
and  ran  at  the  top  of  her  speed,  she  can  run  as 
fast  as  a  race  horse,  to  separate  the  little  old  calf  from 
the  cow,  and  a  half  dozen  young  men  there  too.  Why, 
I  wouldn't  do  that  for  every  cow  in  the  world." 

"Well  that's  all  right,  I'm  more  anxious  than  ever 
to  see  her." 


The  fountains  mingle  with  the  river, 

And  the  rivers  with  the  ocean; 
The  winds  of  Heaven  mix  forever, 

With  a  sweet  emotion; 
Nothing  in  the  world  is  single; 

All  things  by  a  law  divine 
In  one  another's  being  mingle — 

Why  not  I  with  thine? 

— Percy  Bysshe  Shelley. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
The  Baptizing  at  Stallings'  Mill. 

Sunday  morning  dawned  in  unclouded  splendor.  I 
was  up  betimes  getting  ready  for  the  baptizing. 

Two  years  had  passed  since  the  tournament,  and  as 
Nealie  had  since  married  I  was  the  only  child  left 
with  mother.  I  was  still  going  to  school  at  the  old 
Academy,  and  had  about  finished  the  course.  I  had 
grown  tall  and  my  dresses  now  were  made  more  like 
a  grown  lady's.  A  new  white  pique  dress  made  for 
this  occasion  was  in  the  very  latest  Raleigh  fashion. 
A  basque  reaching  well  below  the  hips  with  bell 
sleeves,  an  overskirt,  almost  reaching  to  the  bottom 
of  the  skirt,  all  of  which  were  trimmed  in  white 
fringe.  I  wore  a  "follow-me-lads"  of  cardinal  red 
ribbon  fastened  around  my  neck,  a  small  bow  in  front 
with  the  streamers  half  a  yard  long  tied  at  the  back, 
and  which  continually  blew  in  the  breeze,  so  that  the 
lads  could  not  help  seeing  and  following  the  wearer. 
I  wore  a  large  hat,  called  a  "sundown"  of  white  straw, 
trimmed  with  a  wreath  of  daisies.  When  I  had  put 
the  finishing  touches  on  my  toilet  I  felt  that  I  was 
well  dressed,  if  not  pretty;  a  thing  I  never  could 
hope  to  be,  but  the  consciousness  of  being  well  dressed 

255 


256  FORGET-M£-NOTS   OF   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

in  the  latest  fashion,  and  everything  to  match  gave  me 
as  much  pleasure  as  if  I  had  been  beautiful. 

My  mother  came  in  to  see  how  the  new  outfit  looked, 
and  to  caution  me  not  to  let  the  sun  shine  on  me  and 
get  my  face  sun  burned.  "Now  Laura,  be  careful  and 
don't  get  sun  burned,  because  your  skin  is  dark  enough 
anyway,  and  a  girl  looks  so  unladylike  tanned.  Your 
hat  will  shade  your  face  some,  but  I  told  Victor  to  be 
sure  and  carry  an  umbrella  so  you  girls  could  be  pro- 
tected from  the  sun." 

Looking  out  of  the  window,  she  exclaimed,  "Here 
is  Victor  now  with  the  girls,  calling  you."  Kissing 
my  mother  hurriedly  I  ran  out  to  the  street,  when  I 
found  the  little  dump-cart,  with  my  friends  ready  to 
pull  me  up.  Vic  and  Rosa  sat  in  little  chairs  in  front 
so  that  he  might  drive,  while  Ida  and  I  sat  in  small 
chairs  back  of  them.  We  really  were  packed  in  like 
sardines  in  a  box,  but  still  that  made  it  all  the  fun- 
nier for  us.  The  little  two  wheel  cart  was  drawn  by 
a  pretty  brown  horse  that  Vic  had  raised.  She  was 
fat  as  a  butter  ball,  but  a  good  traveler.  Rosa  and 
Ida  were  gorgeous  in  pink  and  blue  lawns.  Vic  with 
a  white  duck  suit  and  straw  hat,  gave  a  rather  attract- 
ive look  to  our  homely  little  turnout. 

As  soon  as  we  started,  Rosa  said,  "Uncle  Jesse  is 
here  and  wanted  us  to  go  with  him  on  his  lightning 
rod  wagon,  but  we  wouldn't  miss  this  fun  for  any- 
thing." "I  told  Uncle  Jesse  how  pretty  you  were, 
Bettie,"  she  continued  to  rattle  on,  above  the  din  of 
the  cart.  , 

"Uncle  Jesse  is  the  funniest  thing  you  ever  saw," 


THE  BAPTIZING  AT  STALLINGS*    MILL.  257 

said  Ida.  Still  I  only  pictured  an  elderly  man.  Soon 
we  were  well  on  the  way  to  Stalling's  Mill,  people  were 
driving  in  all  kinds  of  vehicles,  some  few  walking. 
The  sun  in  the  meantime  had  grown  hotter,  though 
there  was  quite  a  breeze  now  and  then.  Remember- 
ing what  my  mother  had  said,  that  I  must  take  care 
of  my  complexion,  Ida  and  I  found  the  umbrellas  and 
brought  them  forth.  Much  to  our  amusement  Vic 
had  found  two  that  were  worn  out,  but  for  the  fun 
of  it  we  hoisted  them  to  let  in  the  sun  in  streaks. 
Finally  a  big  flaw  of  wind  turned  them  inside  out, 
and  then  our  fun  increased.  We  shouted  with  laugh- 
ter, and  continued  to  keep  the  umbrella  frames  over 
us.  When  we  were  passing  other  vehicles  we  sat  per- 
fectly still  and  never  so  much  as  smiled,  but  out  of 
sight  we  laughed  until  the  tears  ran  out  of  our  eyes. 

Hearing  a  loud  rumble  and  seeing  a  cloud  of  dust 
rising  back  of  us,  we  dimly  discerned  the  outlines  of 
a  strange  turnout.  "Why,  that's  Uncle  Jesse  now  on 
his  'Thunder  Pole  Wagon,'  as  he  calls  it,"  cried  Ida 
in  high  glee.  "Yes,  look  Bettie,  he  has  Ben  Yelving- 
ton  and  a  crowd  of  the  other  boys."  By  this  time 
the  horses  of  the  "Thunder  Pole  Wagon"  were  at  our 
very  back,  and  looking  up  and  expecting  to  see  a  mid- 
dle aged  man,  I  was  astonished  to  behold  a  handsome 
young  man,  his  whole  face  aglow  with  mirth  and  good 
humor  which  seemed  to  radiate  on  all  about  him. 
Catching  sight  of  our  would-be  umbrella-shades, 
turned  upside  down,  he  simply  shouted  with  laugh- 
ter, but  remembering  we  were  young  ladies,  and  one 
that  he  had  never  met  before,  he  lifted  his  straw  hat 


258  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

and  called  out,  "How  dye  children !  How  are  you  this 
morning?    You  look  like  you  feel  pretty  salubrious." 

"Your  friend  and  admirer,  Ben,  is  looking  to  speak 
to  you,  Bettie.  Why  don't  you  look  at  him?"  asked 
Rosa.  So  glancing  timidly  I  saw  Ben's  smiling  face, 
and  bowing  to  him,  I  caught  another  glimpse  of 
"Uncle  Jesse,"  who  was  trying  to  get  Ben  to  start 
up  a  conversation  with  me,  to  give  him  another  chance 
(I  suspect  now)  to  see  me  better.  I  chatted  on,  and 
felt  my  face  turning  crimson,  from  the  gaze  of  this 
handsome  stranger,  or  no,  was  it  sunburn?  Of  course 
it  was  sunburn,  I  told  myself. 

"Say,  Ida,  don't  you  ladies  want  to  stop  at  Stalling's 
well  and  get  a  nice  cool  drink  of  water?"  "Oh,  yes, 
Uncle  Jesse,  we  are  dying  for  a  drink,"  and  then  she 
winked  and  nodded,  which  he  returned. 

"Oh,  maybe  you  want  to  drive  ahead,"  said  Vic, 
"if  you  do,  go  on,  we  don't  care."  "Oh,  not  for  any- 
thing would  I  drive  ahead  and  get  these  pretty  girls 
all  covered  in  dust,  besides,"  he  added  to  Ben,  "we 
couldn't  see  them  without  getting  kinks  in  our  necks.'' 


There  is  a  time  when  life  is  life  indeed, 

When  love  is  love  and  all  about  it  bright; 
It  is  betrothal  when  great  joy  has  need 

Of  sleep  to  cool  the  hot  heart  of  delight; 
Because  of  you  this  sweetness  came  to  me, 

And  with  a  chain  of  flowers  my  life  was  led, 
But  after  all  what  may  the  meaning  be? 

Why  a  betrothal  if  we  may  not  wed. 

— Gut  Roslyn. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
The  Meeting  at  the  Well. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  had  reached  the  Stallings'  home 
and  in  the  yard  near  the  roadside  was  a  well  of  water. 
Stopping  the  horses,  Ben  said,  "Let  me  run  and  draw 
the  water  and  give  the  girls  some."  "Not  much," 
said  Uncle  Jesse,  "I  planned  that  to  meet  the  pretty 
girl  in  the  cart."  So  jumping  from  his  high  seat,  he 
went  to  the  well  and  drawing  a  bucket  of  water,  gave 
a  broken  glass  full  to  each  of  us,  as  often  as  he  could 
persuade  us  to  drink. 

"Uncle  Jesse"  was  duly  presented  to  me  and  began 
immediately  to  say  nice  things;  of  course  I  pretended 
not  to  notice,  but  as  I  looked  at  him,  I  saw  something 
in  his  face  that  I  had  never  seen  before,  something  that 
told  me  that  I  could  love  him.  He  left  us  and  went 
back  to  his  "Thunder  Pole  Wagon,"  and  the  remain- 
ing short  distance  was  spent  in  composing  ourselves 
for  the  religious  exercises.  When  we  reached  the 
pond,  we  alighted  and  went  down  to  the  water's  edge 
to  watch  the  baptizing.  Vic  tied  his  horse  and  walked 
down  with  Rosa.  Our  umbrella,  a  thing  we  now 
needed,  was  of  no  use  to  us,  but  "Uncle  Jesse"  had  a 
brand  new  one  and  begged  to  be  allowed  to  hold  it 
over  me,  while  Ben  protected  Ida  from  the  sun's  fierce 

261 


262  forget-me-nots  of  the  civil  war. 

glare.  "Miss  Bettie,  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Lee, 
why  did  you  and  Ida  inconvenience  yourselves  by  rid- 
ing in  that  horrible  dump  cart  when  Ben  told  me  you 
had  'dead  oodles"  of  fellows  anxious  to  bring  you  in 
some  more  comfortable  buggy  or  other  carriage  ?" 

"We  thought  it  would  be  fun  and  a  novelty  too,  to 
drive  out  in  a  dump-cart  and,  not  to  be  bothered  by  the 
young  men,  but  just  have  a  good  time,  you  see.  Not 
much  of  an  excuse  to  be  uncomfortable,"  I  continued, 
"but  just  because  we  wanted  to  do  it."  "I  never  could 
live  in  a  town  near  you  and  let  you  do  such  a  thing, 
Miss  Bettie,  I  mean  Miss  Lee,"  he  said  again.  "Don't 
bother  about  Miss  Lee,  just  call  me  Bettie  or  Laura, 
or  Betsey."  "All  right  Miss  Betsey,  may  I  call  on 
you  this  afternoon?  You  know  who  my  people  are 
in  Clayton  and  in  the  state,  so  don't  treat  me  like  a 
rank  stranger,  please  ma'am,"  he  pleaded.  "Very 
well,  Mr.  Mercer,  you  may  call,"  but  just  here  came 
the  candidates  for  baptism,  and  Doctor  Harrell  with 
them,  and  the  conversation  ended  abruptly. 

Dr.  Harrell  was  dressed  in  a  long  black  robe,  bare 
headed,  holding  in  his  hand  a  stick  with  which  he  took 
the  depth  of  the  water  every  few  feet.  Following 
him  were  forty  women  and  men  walking  by  twos,  all 
singing,  "Wash  me  and  I  shall  be  whiter  than  snow." 
Whereupon  the  whole  crowd  joined  in  excepting  my- 
self and  a  few  others.  "Why  don't  you  sing,  Miss 
Betsey?"  said  Jesse.  "I  had  throat  trouble  for  years 
and  lost  my  voice  and  can't  sing."  "Come,  join 
in  the  chorus  any  way,"  he  urged. 

"No,  I  beg  you  not  to  ever  ask  me  again,  because  I 


THE  MEETING  AT  THE  WELE.  263 

am  liable  to  break  down  and  cry  if  you  do,"  I  said. 
"Not  for  worlds  would  I  bring  a  tear  to  those  pretty 
brown  eyes,"  he  replied. 

We  hushed  again  to  look  upon  the  water  of  the  old 
mill  pond,  now  bearing  on  its  bosom  the  precious  souls 
that  had  been  freed  from  sin,  by  the  Doctor  dipping 
them  down  into  the  water  and  bringing  them  up 
again  and  pronouncing  the  words,  "I  baptize  you,  my 
sister,  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  Son  and  Holy 
Ghost,  Amen,"  and  then  singing  a  verse  of  "Whiter 
Than  the  Snow." 

After  the  forty  had  been  immersed  in  this  Jordan, 
we  sought  our  carriages  and  went  to  the  Baptist  church 
where  Doctor  Harrell  preached  a  sermon. 

"Uncle  Jesse"  held  the  umbrella  over  me  every  time 
he  had  an  opportunity,  and  I  did  not  object,  but  rather 
liked  it.  Of  course  all  the  nice  things  he  said  about  my 
beauty  I  simply  took  for  flattery,  and  it  made  no  im- 
pression, except  to  remind  me  how  homely  I  was  when 
compared  with  Nealie,  and  I  never  believed  it,  when- 
ever I  was  called  pretty,  for  I  could  see  the  difference 
in  her  beautiful  face  and  my  own. 


Love,  I  will  tell  you  what  it  is  to  love! 

It  is  to  build  with  human  thoughts  a  shrine, 
Where  hope  sits  brooding  like  a  beauteous  dove, 

"Where  Time  seems  young  and  life  a  thing  divine. 
All  tastes,  all  pleasures,  all  desires   combine 

To  consecrate  this  sanctuary  of  bliss. 
Above,  the  stars  in  cloudless  beauty  shine; 

Around  the  streams  their  flowery  margins  kiss, 
And  if  there's  heaven  on  earth,  that  heaven  is  surely  this. 

— Chaeles  Swain. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
Jesse  Falls  in  Love  at  First  Sight. 

That  afternoon  I  had  barely  finished  dinner  when 
I  saw  Mr.  Mercer  coming  up  the  walk.  He  was  just  as 
smiling  and  happy  looking  as  ever.  I  had  my  mother  to 
meet  him  and  she  soon  left  us  to  ourselves.  "I  have 
never  seen  a  girl  before  that  I  wanted  to  make  my 
wife.  It  is  rather  a  short  time  to  say  this  to  you,  but 
believe  me,  it  is  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight.  I  never 
believed  it  before,  but,  Miss  Betsey,  I  feel  like  I  have 
known  you  always  and  always  loved  you." 

"I  beg  of  you  not  to  say  those  things  to  me,"  I  ner- 
vously replied,  "I  am  only  a  child  yet  and  I  hope  not 
near  through  school,  though  I  doubt  whether  I  can 
ever  go  away  and  leave  my  mother  alone,  even  to 
graduate." 

"I  know  you  are  a  child,  and  I  am  just  nineteen  in 
November,  but  since  I  have  seen  you  I  can  promise 
you  to  work  hard  and  in  a  short  time  be  able  to  make 
you  comfortable." 

"Do  you  know,  Miss  Betsey,"  said  he,  "that  my 
horses  helped  me  to  find  you?  There  is  no  getting 
away  from  it,  they  brought  me  to  you  and  luck,  that 
is  all  the  luck  I  -want — to  know  you  and  win  you,  and 
I'll  be  happy  till  I  die.     Then  he  told  me  how  they 

265 


266  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OE  THE   CIVIL  WAR. 

came  to  the  cross-roads,  and  the  driver  asked  which 
road  to  take  and  he  said  "  'Let  them  take  the  road  they 
will,  and  that  will  be  luck,'  and  here  is  my  luck  to 
know  you  and  to  love  you.  Oh,  how  I  bless  the  day 
they  brought  me  here  to  you,  Miss  Betsey!" 

"Oh,  don't  talk  of  such  things,"  I  replied,  "I  am  too 
young  to  listen." 

"I  can't  help  telling  you,"  he  replied,  "it  is  now  so 
firmly  rooted  in  my  heart  and  mind  that  you  are  to 
be  my  wife  some  day,  I  can't  resist  talking  about  it. 
Won't  you  try  to  love  me,  Miss  Betsey,  if  I  prove  my- 
self worthy?  Promise  me  that  you  will."  I  felt  then 
in  my  secret  thoughts,  that  I  not  only  could  love  him, 
but  did  love  him,  as  I  had  never  dreamed  I  could  love 
any  man.  Yet  I  must  carefully  guard  that  secret, 
for  I  well  knew  it  would  not  do  to  let  him  know  it. 
He  wooed  me  that  Sunday  afternoon  with  so  much 
ardor  that  I  must  have  let  him  know  in  some  way  that 
it  was  not  against  my  own  heart  to  listen  to  his  plead- 
ings. 

"Why,  Mr.  Jesse,  you  talk  this  off  so  glibly  to  me, 
I  am  sure  you  are  accustomed  to  tell  every  girl  you 
meet  the  same  thing." 

"I  will  admit  I  am  fond  of  girls  and  often  say 
pretty  things  to  them,  but  I  never  have,  as  I  hope  to 
die,  said  the  same  things  to  them  that  I  say  to  you, 
and  ask  you  to  be  my  wife.  'Tis  true  I  am  in  no  posi- 
tion to  marry  you  yet,  and  some  one  else  who  doesn't 
and  can't  love  you  half  like  I  do  may  marry  you.  No, 
I  must  have  you  some  day  for  my  wife,  whether  you 
say  'No'  now  will  make  no  difference.  Later  on, 
I  must  call  you  my  own." 


JFSSE  FAIXS  IN  LOVE)  AT  FIRST  SIGHT.  267 

I  felt  myself  being  drawn  irresistibly  to  this  stran- 
ger, '  and  that  he  was  but  speaking  from  the 
depths  of  his  heart,  but  when  I  remembered  that  I 
had  been  brought  up  to  look  upon  marriage  as  a  step 
to  be  taken,  not  lightly,  nor  hurriedly,  I  knew  that  I 
ought  not  continue  to  listen  to  such  words  from  him. 

I  had  one  beau  that  I  had  known  since  childhood 
days,  and  I  had  begun  to  look  upon  his  visits  as  tend- 
ing towards  marriage,  but  he  knew  I  was  still  in 
school,  and  would  not  dare  to  offer  himself  then,  still 
as  I  thought  of  Richard  Madison  then,  I  knew  that 
I  did  not  love  him  and  only  mistook  friendship  for 
love. 

"You  must  give  me  time  to  think  over  all  you  have 
said,"  I  ventured  to  remark.  "Very  well,  I  shall  be 
here  and  in  the  vicinity  for  several  days,  as  I  find 
plenty  of  houses  that  have  no  lightning  rods.  I  am 
doing  this  work  because  there  is  a  big  profit  in  it,  but 
every  house  I  put  rods  on  I  am  cutting  out  of  the  busi- 
ness for  future  needs,  so  you  see  it  must  be  only 
a  stepping  stone  to  another  business.  I  am  working 
now  for  money  to  engage  in  manufacturing  later  on." 

As  he  was  rising  to  take  his  leave,  he  asked  me, 
"Miss  Betsey,  may  I  take  you  to  church  tonight?"  I 
had  to  say  "Yes,"  despite  the  fact  I  thought  I  was 
being  "rushed"  a  little  too  much. 

When  I  told  my  mother  of  this,  she  said,  "I  am 
surprised  at  you,  but  as  you  have  promised  and  we 
know  his  sister  so  well,  you  may  go."  On  the  way 
home  he  wanted  to  get  back  on  that  subject  of  the 
afternoon,  but  I  managed  to  steer  him  into  another 


268  FORGtff-MS-NOTS  OP  THE  CIVII,  WAR. 

channel,  by  talking  of  his  adventures  in  the  lightning 
rod  business. 

When  I  bade  him  goodnight  at  the  door,  he  took 
my  hand  and  gave  it  a  gentle  pressure. 

Monday  morning  I  was  on  my  way  to  school,  and 
I  had  to  pass  the  hotel  and  there,  sitting  talking  to 
a  crowd  of  young  people,  was  my  more  than  friend. 
Seeing  me,  he  jumped  over  the  rail  of  the  piazza  and 
said,  "Good  morning,  'Merry  Sunshine,'  let  me  carry 
your  books,"  and  with  an  air  of  proprietorship  he 
took  my  books  whether  or  not  and  off  he  went  with 
me  to  school.  On  bidding  me  adieu,  at  the  door,  he 
said,  "I  am  going  out  in  the  country  for  a  few  days; 
may  I  drop  in  to  see  you  some  evening  after  I  get 
back?" 

"I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Jesse,  but  I  never  see  company 
during  the  week.  My  studies  are  too  hard  for  that, 
besides  my  mother  objects." 


O  Dinna  ask  me  gin  I  lo'e  ye; 

Troth  I  daunna  tell! 
Dinna  ask  me  gin  I  lo'e  ye, — 

Ask  it  o'  yoursel'. 

— Dunlop. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
I  Am  Not  Far  Behind. 

Somehow  from  then  on  I  could  not  study  without 
every  little  while  thinking  of  Jesse.  I  began  to  won- 
der if  he  was  saying  the  same  things  to  the  other  girls 
he  had  said  to  me.  I  was  in  love,  I  felt  sure,  and  to 
think  I  was  just  sixteen  and  never  would  be  per- 
mitted to  think  about  him  if  my  mother  knew  of  it,  and 
I  had  always  been  candid  with  her  in  regard  to  my 
liking  for  young  men.  She  wouldn't  even  tolerate 
a  thought  of  marriage  with  any  of  the  boys  that  she 
knew,  much  less  a  stranger.  I  was  glad  when  the 
studies  were  over  for  the  day  and  when  I  passed  the 
young  people  at  the  hotel,  they  all  began,  "Say,  Bet- 
tie,  that  young  lightning  rod  agent  is  crazy  about  you. 
He  had  not  talked  of  anything  else  up  to  the  time  he 
left." 

"That  is  the  truth,"  said  the  proprietor,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  on  the  piazza  at  the  time. 

"He  has  the  worst  case  of  love  at  first  sight  I 
ever  saw." 

"Oh,  look  at  her  blushing,  why  I  believe  you  are 
in  love,  too!" 

So  I  heard  nothing  else  but  my  new  beau. 

After  I  reached  home  mother  said,  "Laura,  I  have 

271 


272  FORGET-MI^-NOTS   OF  TH£   CIVIL  WAR. 

been  up  to  Mrs.  White's  to-day  and  she  was  telling 
me  that  the  young  man  Mercer,  who  took  you  to  church 
last  night,  was  telling  the  other  boys  they  would  bet- 
ter look  to  their  laurels,  for  he  was  going  to  marry 
you  if  you  would  have  him.  Now  that  beats  anything 
I  ever  heard  of!  Such  children  as  you  both  are. 
Why,  he  has  nothing  to  marry  on  and  it  is  ridiculous, 
and  you  want  at  least  two  more  years  at  school  before 
you  graduate."  I  colored  crimson,  I  am  sure,  for 
there  came  over  me  a  feeling  that  I  didn't  care  to 
graduate  after  all  the  coaxing  I  had  done  to  get  her 
to  spare  the  money  for  that  purpose. 

His  nieces  then  came  in  and  began,  "Mrs.  Lee,  you 
will  certainly  lose  Bettie  now,  for  'Uncle  Jesse'  says 
he  can't  live  without  her."  Here  I  felt  my  face  a 
blaze  of  fire  again.  "Well,  he  will  have  to  live  without 
her  for  a  while  at  least."  I  knew  every  word  of  such 
talk  would  only  make  my  mother  more  opposed  to 
him.  I  tried  to  shut  off  the  conversation,  but  in 
a  short  time  it  turned  back  to  the  same  subject. 

The  days  seemed  interminable,  and  yet  I  ought 
not  to  want  the  stranger  to  return,  but  I  could  not 
help  it,  and  hourly  hoped  to  hear  that  Jesse  had  come 
back  to  town  again.  He  did  not  return  till  vSaturday, 
and  soon  after  his  arrival  in  town,  he  called  to  see 
me  on  his  way  to  his  sister's.  I  tried  not  to  show  him 
how  glad  I  was  to  see  him,  and  yet  I  am  certain  he 
did  see  it,  for  he  looked  more  like  he  was  certain  of 
his  ground  the  more  he  saw  of  me. 


Tears,  idle  tears!   I  know  not  what  they  mean, 
Tears,  from  the  depth  of  some  divine  despair, 
Rise  in  the  heart,  and  gather  to  the  eyes, 
In  looking  on  the  happy  autumn  fields, 
And  thinking  of  the  days  that  are  no  more. 

— Alfred  Tennyson. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
His  Departure  and  My  GriEE. 

The  days  flew  by  until  Jesse  had  done  all  the  work 
in  town  and  had  to  bid  goodbye  to  us  for  he  was 
going  to  Fayetteville  from  Clayton,  and  then  into 
South  Carolina. 

"Miss  Betsey,  I  am  going  to  write  you,"  said  Jesse, 
"will  you  answer  my  letters?" 

"I  think  not,  but  I  will  ask  my  mother  and  Prof. 
White,  and  if  they  consent,  I'll  be  glad  to  do  so,"  I 
answered. 

I  asked  Prof.  White  first.  I  believe  there  was 
method  in  it,  for  having  gotten  his  consent,  I  had  no 
trouble  in  getting  my  mother's.  Professor,  when 
asked,  said :  "I  can  see  no  harm  in  it,  and  it  will  be 
the  means  of  helping  your  diction  and  composition." 

I  immediately  told  my  mother  that  Mr.  Mercer 
wanted  me  to  answer  his  letters  and  I  had  asked  Pro- 
fessor, who  seemed  to  think  it  might  help  my  composi- 
tion, etc. 

"Of  course,  if  Professor  White  thinks  it  is  all 
right,  I  will  say  nothing  that  will  keep  you  from  it, 
only  I  think  you  might  learn  all  that  from  the  Pro- 
fessor himself  without  having  to  correspond  with 
a  stranger." 

275 


276  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

"Well,  Miss  Betsey,  won't  you  promise  to  marry 
me  before  I  leave  you?" 

"No  I  can't  make  such  a  promise,  for  I  could  not 
keep  it  if  I  did,"  I  replied. 

"Well,  remember  this,  I  am  coming  back  to  claim 
you  as  my  wife  some  day,  so  farewell  and  remember 
I'll  always  love  you.  I  can't  think  of  anything  else 
but  you.  I  am  not  fit  to  attend  to  my  business,  but 
hope  when  I  get  away  I  may  be  able  to  buckle  on 
the  armour  again,  and  get  to  work  for  your  sake,  dar- 
ling," and  snatching  my  hand  he  impressed  a  burn- 
ing kiss  upon  it,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  gone  I  kissed 
the  same  spot. 

There  Were  hours  of  untold  misery  for  me,  for  I 
felt  this  love  for  him  had  crowded  out  all  desire  for 
anything  else,  and  yet  I  knew  it  would  take  years  to 
overcome  a  feeling  of  prejudice  that  I  saw  had  filled 
my  mother's  mind,  due  to  his  being  so  young,  and  a 
stranger  too.  A  letter  came  in  a  few  days,  filled  with 
nothing  of  his  travels  or  ought  else  to  benefit  me,  but 
his  love  for  me,  just  a  heart  burdened  with  love 
for  his  child  sweetheart,  and  all  he  proposed  to  do  for 
making  me  his  wife  very  speedily.  I  had  so  many 
questions  asked  by  my  mother  and  Professor  about 
the  style  of  letter  that  Jesse  wrote  I  had  to  pretend 
it  was  not  worth  keeping  and  I  had  destroyed  it. 
Soon  after  it  another  one  came  that  did  contain  some 
news  item  which  I  took  pleasure  in  regaling  to  my 
people. 

He  wrote  more  regularly  than  was  necessary  for  a 
correspondence  that  was  not  intended  to  improve  my 


HIS  DEPARTURE  AND  MY  GRIEF.  277 

composition  and  rhetoric,  for  I  answered  his  letters  at 
intervals,  and  always  avoided  the  subject  of  love. 

My  mother  still  discouraged  the  idea  of  a  regular 
correspondence  with  a  comparative  stranger,  and  my 
being  only  a  school  girl  yet,  made  each  letter  I  wrote 
a  hard  struggle.  It  did  not  seem  right  for  me  to  want 
to  disobey  her,  and  I  felt  that  this  young  stranger 
was  so  much  a  part  of  my  future  happiness  that  I 
dared  not  think  of  the  future  without  him.  As  I  had 
always  been  obedient,  I  wanted  and  intended  to  do 
as  my  mother  told  me,  still  there  was  a  hungry  feel- 
ing of  love  for  this  young  man,  and  a  craving  to 
see  him  again. 

My  old  friends  and  beaux  continued  to  pay  me 
steady  attention,  as  if  no  one  had  ever  broken  in 
upon  our  serene  life,  yet  I  could  not  even  bear  the 
thought  of  their  love  for  me,  or  that  I  ever  could  have 
cared  for  them.  Mother  had  always  said  I  was  too 
young  to  think  about  such  things,  and  surely  she  had 
been  right,  as  I  knew  now,  and  if  right  in  the  past, 
she  must  be  right  now. 

I  think,  however,  my  mother  knew  too  much  about 
human  nature  and  young  girls  in  particular  to  set 
up  an  opposition  to  him,  and  hoped  that  time  and 
absence,  those  great  healers  of  so  many  love  lorn 
maidens,  would  do  more  for  me  than  any  words  she 
might  then  say. 

His  letters  continued  to  arrive,  but  I  did  not  hurry 
in  replying,  and  began  trying  to  gradually  drop  the 
correspondence,  and  go  on  with  my  young  friends,  as 
though  I  had  never  met  Jesse  Mercer.     I  was  deter- 


278  forgst-me-nots  of  the  civil  war. 

mined  to  thoroughly  test  myself  and  know  whether 
this  feeling  for  a  comparative  stranger  could  be  love, 
or  was  it  a  girlish  infatuation.  My  heart  only  quick- 
ened at  the  mention  of  his  name,  and  a  nameless  some- 
thing spoke  in  every  fibre  of  my  being,  that  I  could 
not  love  any  other  man,  and  if  I  did  not  marry  him  I 
should  never  marry  any  one.  In  those  days  a  South- 
ern girl  was  rarely  single  at  twenty  years  of  age. 
Many  of  my  friends  marrying  as  early  as  fourteen, 
and  few  later  than  seventeen. 


I  do  not  think  where'er  thou  art, 

Thou  hast  forgotten  me; 
And  I,  perhaps,  may  soothe  this  heart, 

In  thinking,  too,  of  thee; 
Yet  there  was  round  thee  such  a  dawn 

Of  light  ne'er  seen  before, 
As  fancy  never  could  have  drawn, 

And  never  can  restore! 

— Rev.   Chas.  Wolfe. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 
Hear  Rumor  oe  Engagement  to  Another  Girl. 

Dr.  Harrell's  family  all  knew  that  Jesse  was  deeply 
in  love  with  me  and  that  he  had  asked  me  to  marry 
him,  that  we  had  corresponded  and  that  I  was  still 
going  to  church  and  parties  with  young  Madison,  who 
seemed  to  never  let  me  miss  anything  for  the  want 
of  an  escort,  and  indeed  was  a  regular  visitor  at  our 
home.  Ida  Harrell,  knowing  this,  and  wanting  to  keep 
her  uncle  from  being  discarded,  wrote  and  fully 
acquainted  him  with  all  my  movements.  Then  Jesse 
not  liking  to  hear  such  things,  determined  to  give  me 
a  little  of  my  own  medicine  so  he  wrote  and  told 
Ida  that  he  was  stopping  in  a  town  where  he  had 
met  a  beautiful  girl,  much  like  me,  especially  her  eyes, 
and  that  she  was  a  lovely  musician. 

Whereupon  on  receipt  of  his  letter,  Ida  came 
straight  to  see  me  and  tell  me  "that  Uncle  Jesse  was 
engaged  to  a  Miss  Jennie  Stewart,  of  South  Carolina, 
a  perfect  beauty,  though  she  has  eyes  like  you.  He 
just  raves  over  her." 

I  felt  a  lump  rising  in  my  throat,  and  it  was  by  an 
effort  of  great  will  power  that  I  controlled  myself,  so 
that  she  might  not  notice  it. 

"I  am  so  glad  to  hear  it,  Ida,  and  hope  Miss  Jennie 

281 


282  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE  THE   CIVII,  WAR. 

may  be  as  good  a  wife  as  she  is  beautiful,  don't  forget 
to  congratulate  him  for  me,"  I  replied. 

"Well,  Bettie,  I  am  so  sorry  you  went  back  on 
Uncle  Jesse  for  he  will  make  somebody  a  good  hus- 
band, and  we  all  thought  he  loved  you  better  than 
anybody  else." 

I  answered  quickly,  "Oh,  'somebody,'  as  you  say, 
will  love  me  just  as  well  and  make  me  much  happier, 
for  I  couldn't  bear  to  have  him  travel  and  leave  me 
at  home,  as  the  lightning  rod  business  demands." 


Oh!   hadst  thou  never  shared  my  fate, 

More  dark  that  fate  would  prove, 
My  heart  were  truly  desolate, 

Without  thy  soothing  love. 
But  thou  has  suffered  for  my  sake, 

Whilst  this  relief  I  found, 
Like  fearless  lips  that  strive  to  take 

The  poison  from  a  wound. 
My  fond  affection  thou  hast  seen, 

Then  judge  of  my  regret, 
To  think  more  happy  thou  hadst  been, 

If  we  had  never  met! 
And  has  that  thought  been  shared  by  thee? 

Ah,  no!  that  smiling  cheek, 
Proves  more  unchanging  love  for  me, 

Than  laboured  words  could  speak. 

Thomas  Haynes  Bayley. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 
I  Am  Very  Unhappy. 

That  night  I  retired  early  and  wept  so  bitterly  at 
hearing  of  his  love  for  another  girl,  that  I  well  nigh 
made  myself  sick.  Surely  now,  I  knew  that  my  mother 
was  right,  and  knew  more  of  the  ways  of  young  men 
than  I  did.  After  a  struggle  to  give  him  up  or  not, 
for  I  felt  that  just  a  line  from  me  might  change  all 
this,  I  called  my  pride  to  my  aid  and  said,  "No,  never 
will  I  drop  him  another  line,  unless  he  makes  the 
overture  first.  If  he  can  so  easily  love  another  girl, 
after  his  protestations  of  undying  affection  for  me 
in  such  a  short  time,  I  can  crush  down  the  feeling  I 
have  for  him  and  simply  look  upon  him  as  one  dead, 
the  memory  of  whom  would  be  as  an  oasis  in  my 
darkest  hours." 

Ida  constantly  heard  from  him  and  never  failed  to 
tell  me  of  his  continued  stay  in  this  town  where  Miss 
Stewart  lived. 

I  had  the  happy  faculty  then  of  adjusting  myself 
to  my  surroundings  as  young  people  usually  do. 
Sometimes  on  Sunday  afternoons  I  had  as  many  as 
fifteen  young  men  to  see  me  at  the  same  time.  They 
were  not  all  suitors  by  any  means,  but  I  seemed  to 
be  the  kind  of  a  girl  who  could  talk  to  them  all  and 

285 


286  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

no  one  seem  to  be  the  favorite.  Why  should  I  not 
be  able  to  do  that,  when  the  one  I  dared  not  now  love 
was  still  the  one  that  would  have  been  the  favorite 
if,  ah,  that  dreadful  "if." 

In  the  year  following  my  first  meeting,  when  the 
horses  brought  to  him  "Bess  and  luck,"  as  he  termed 
it,  a  large  party  of  twenty  young  people  were  invited 
to  visit  the  State  Fair  at  Wilmington,  guests  of  a 
house  party  of  one  of  my  friends.  Richard  Madi- 
son was  there,  my  gallant  chevalier,  and  was  so 
devoted  that  his  relatives  thought  we  were  engaged, 
and  teased  us  accordingly.  I  was  trying  to  learn  to 
love  him,  for  he  was  a  bright,  promising  young  scion 
of  a  good  family,  but  I  never  could  get  the  consent 
of  mind  to  think  I  loved  him  well  enough  to  marry 
him.  When  I  analyzed  my  feelings  there  was  some- 
thing that  insistently  told  me  not  to  promise  to  marry 
him,  as  much  as  he  urged;  but  wait,  that  Jesse  still 
loved  me.  He  had  quit  writing,  and  I  never  heard 
where  he  was  or  what  he  was  doing,  but  after  our 
party  left  for  the  Fair  I  was  informed  by  my  mother 
that  Jesse  Mercer  had  been  in  town  and  was  greatly 
disappointed  at  finding  me  away.  When  I  heard  that 
he,  my  own  boy  lover  had  been  back  to  see  me,  even 
though  I  was  absent,  I  felt  so  happy  that  I  wanted 
to  sing  for  joy. 

I  began  to  see  things  in  a  rosy  color  again,  and 
down  in  my  innermost  soul  I  felt  that  all  was  not 
over  between  us  two,  that  he  would  surely  come  back. 

In  a  few  weeks  this  came  to  pass.  Richard  Madison 
had  taken  me  to  Liberty  Church  to  hear  a  revivalist. 


I  AM   VERY  UNHAPPY.  287 

Instead  of  listening  to  the  sermon  the  young  people 
usually  sat  in  the  grove  and  chatted,  and  ate  lunch 
of  fruit  or  watermelon.  The  young  men  sat  in  the 
buggies  with  the  girls  that  they  had  taken,  and  if 
these  couples  were  oftener  thinking  of  what  the 
young  men  said,  than  what  the  preacher  had,  it  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at.  While  Richard  and  I  were 
thus  occupied,  I  heard  a  voice  that  thrilled  me,  and 
on  looking  up,  there  stood  Jesse  Mercer  beside  me. 
The  same  bright,  cheerful  smile  radiating  on  all 
around,  just  as  before.  Richard,  of  course,  hated 
him  too  much  to  offer  his  seat  beside  me,  so  finally 
Jesse  said,  "I  just  stopped  over  from  train  to  train 
and  must  catch  the  1  p.  m.  express  for  Charlotte,  a 
pressing  business  meeting  calling  me  there  tomorrow." 

Upon  hearing  this  Richard  thought  his  horse  was 
untied,  and  stepped  to  his  head  to  adjust  the  bridle. 
Jesse  spoke  low  to  me  and  said : 

"Miss  Betsey,  promise  me  not  to  marry  until  I  see 
you  again."  I  cheerfully  answered,  "I  have  no  idea 
of  such  a  thing  and  I'll  promise." 

He  grasped  my  hand  and  looked  into  my  eyes  and 
said  "Goodbye."  I  read  a  message  then  in  his 
eyes,  that  the  love  that  I  had  thought  dead  was 
kindled  into  a  fierce  flame.  Surely  he  read  the  same 
in  my  telltale  blushes.  He  left  me  in  body,  but  in 
spirit  he  was  near  me,  waking  or  sleeping,  my  boy 
lover  was  near  me  and  loved  me,  not  Jennie  Stewart. 
How  could  I  ever  have  thought  he  did  not  love  me? 
Just  a  word  of  idle  chatter  of  his  niece,  who  was  try- 
ing to  find  out  if  I  loved  him  and  if  he  loved  me.     I 


288  FORGET-M£-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR. 

read  it  all  then,  and  knew  that  Ida  meant  to  be  a 
real  friend  to  us  both.  I  was  glad  to  bid  Richard 
goodbye  at  our  gate  and  run  to  my  room,  where  I 
permitted  myself  to  think  how  much  I  was  beloved 
and  how  little  I  deserved  it  after  months  of  doubt 
and  jealousy. 

Suddenly  I  remembered  in  my  happiness  my  moth- 
er's unhappiness,  if  she  only  knew  all  this,  and  then 
came  a  feeling  of  my  disobedience  to  her  and  regret 
that  it  was  so,  but  I  would  not  alter  anything,  even 
though  my  mother  would  be  unhappy.  I  must  love 
my  stranger  lover,  though  the  whole  world  opposed 
it,  for  he  was  no  stranger  to  me,  but  a  part  of  me, 
a  something  so  near  and  dear  to  me  that  life  itself 
would  not  be  worth  living  without  him.  I  pondered 
deeply  on  the  one  thing  I  had  wanted  so  much  to  do, 
to  continue  my  studies  till  I  could  graduate,  now  I 
thought  why  I'd  make  my  mother  just  as  miserable 
by  leaving  her  to  go  off  to  school,  as  if  I  were  leav- 
ing her  to  marry  the  one  man  in  all  the  world  for  me. 

I  could  not  concentrate  my  mind  on  books,  and 
problems  in  geometry  were  not  necessary  to  make 
my  boy  lover  happy  as  he  often  told  me. 

A  few  weeks  after  Jesse  had  come  and  gone  again 
so  suddenly,  I  was  down  at  Nealie's  home,  for  her  two 
little  children  helped  me  to  put  out  of  my  constant 
thought  the  being  whom  I  so  loved.  Nell  and  Charlie 
made  me  forget  myself  in  them  whether  I  wanted  to 
or  not.  Nealie  always  so  willing  to  help  me,  now 
seemed  to  need  my  constant  companionship,  my  mother 
having  told  her  what  she  thought  of  my  feelings  to- 


I  AM   V£RY  UNHAPPY.  289 

wards  Jesse.  One  day  at  her  home  a  little  col- 
ored boy  whom  my  sister  had  sent  up  town  on 
an  errand  came  running  at  the  top  of  his  speed 
and  breathlessly  called  to  me,  "Oh,  Miss  Bettie, 
your  true  lover  have  came!"  Thinking  he  meant 
some  of  my  friends  from  about  town,  I  did  not  reply, 
but  running  up  to  me,  his  big  eyes  bulging,  "Shore 
now  'fore  de  Lawd,  Miss  Bettie,  your  true  lover  have 
came,"  he  insisted.  Finally  I  said  in  the  most  indif- 
ferent manner,  "What  is  the  name  of  'my  true  lover,' 
and  where  did  he  'came'  from?" 

"Miss  Harrell's  brudder  that  has  got  de  circus 
wagon."  Hearing  that  much  I  ran  home  without 
waiting  to  hear  anything  else.  My  heart  was  beating 
so  hard,  it  seemed  to  almost  burst  its  bounds.  I  went 
to  my  room,  added  a  few  touches  to  my  toilet,  but 
determined  to  look  as  much  like  Jesse  had  surprised  me 
as  possible,  if  he  should  drop  in  to  see  me. 


O,   have   I   lived   or   have   I   loved, 

In    any    years    before? 
For   now   I    cannot   dream   of   joy, 

Save   with   him   evermore. 
I   would  and  would  not,  love  and  fear, 

Make  up  so  large  a  sum 
Within   my   foolish   heart   today, 

The  heart  that  he  has  won. 
O,  lavish  lights  and  floating  shades, 

I  would  you  were  no  more; 
Fly   down   and    haunt   the   midnight   glades, 

And  tell  me  day  is  o'er. 
Dear  joy,  keep  my  secret  safe; 

Like  him  you  cannot  guess; 
That  life  and  love  are  centered  here, 

Where  I  have  written — "Yes." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 
Our  Engagement. 

It  was  a  bright  sunny  day  in  March,  and  our  front 
door  stood  open.  My  mother  called  me  and  said,  "I 
have  a  piece  of  machine  work  I  want  you  to  do  for 
me,  Laura." 

"Very  well,"  I  answered,  and  going  into  the  room 
where  she  was  preparing  the  work,  I  sat  down  to 
sew  the  garment.  She  was  busy  at  the  table  basting, 
and  I  was  running  the  old  "Howe,"  such  a  noisy  ma- 
chine that  it  drowned  out  every  other  noise.  Finally 
feeling  a  presence  near  me,  I  looked  up,  and  there 
stood  my  boy-lover  in  the  doorway  smiling  at  me. 

That  I  was  greatly  embarrassed  does  not  really  ex- 
press my  feeling,  and  I  have  no  idea  how  I  managed 
to  greet  him  or  what  I  did. 

"Well,  Mrs.  Lee,  you  must  excuse  me  for  my  seem- 
ing rudeness,  I  did  knock  on  the  front  door,  so  loud 
I  thought  I'd  wake  the  'seven  sleepers,'  but  I  heard 
the  noise  of  the  sewing  machine  and  knew  you  could 
not  hear  my  knocking,  and  so  took  the  liberty  to  walk 
in  the  open  door." 

He  sat  down  beside  me,  and  we  chatted  between 
the  pieces  of  sewing  my  mother  continued  to  hand 
over  to  me.     We  were  sitting  talking  in  one  of  those 

291 


292  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF   THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

intervals,  when  Jesse  took  from  his  pocket  a  pencil  and 
envelope,  for  my  mother  kept  her  back  to  us,  while 
basting  at  the  table,  and  writing  a  few  words  handed 
it  back  to  me.  I  felt  what  was  coming  and  read 
these  words,  "Will  you  be  my  wife?  I  must  know  now, 
answer  'yes'  and  make  me  the  happiest  man  alive." 

I  took  the  pencil  and  nervously  wrote,  fearing  my 
mother  would  turn  around  and  see  me  thus  engaged, 
"I  would  say  'yes'  if  I  thought  you  wanted  to  hear  it." 

Then  stealing  my  hand,  he  pressed  it  to  his  lips. 
Before  I  could  arrest  him  from  what  I  saw  was  com- 
ing he  said : 

"Mrs.  Lee,  I  have  just  asked  your  daughter  to  be 
my  wife,  and  she  has  made  me  the  happiest  of  men 
by  saying  'Yes.'  " 

I  saw  my  mother  clutch  the  table  for  support,  and 
turning  said  to  me,  "Laura,  you  surely  do  not  mean 
it?" 

I  faltered,  "Yes,  mother,  I  do  mean  it." 

"Why  you  are  too  young,  and  not  through  school, 
I  cannot  think  of  letting  you  marry  now,  and  Mr. 
Mercer  is  a  stranger,  too.  You  have  not  thought 
what  your  promise  means,"  she  said. 

"Mrs.  Lee,  I  know  that  you  are  right  in  wishing  to 
see  your  daughter  well  settled  in  life,  and  my  voca- 
tion now  is  not  to  my  own  thinking  as  respected  as  I 
intend  for  my  future  business  to  be.  My  trips  lately 
have  been  to  confer  with  some  men  in  St.  Lous,  where 
we  have  decided  to  open  up  a  manufacturing  chemists 
laboratory  and  where  we  shall  manufacture  medicines 
for  the  medical  profession  to  use.    There  is  a  fortune 


OUR  ENGAGEMENT.  293 

in  it,  I  am  convinced,  I  have  some  money  I  have 
saved  from  the  business  I  am  now  engaged  in,  and  I 
have  arranged  to  form  a  company  and  begin  life  in  a 
live  western  city,  where  we  will  be  centrally  located  for 
supplying  the  United  States." 

"Then  you  will  make  St.  Louis  your  home,"  mur- 
mured my  mother. 

"Yes,  that  is  my  intention,  our  family  have  never 
recuperated  since  losing  the  negroes,  and  I  am  not 
willing  to  drag  along  for  years  eking  out  a  bare  exist- 
ence, when  I  can  make  a  fortune  by  going  West." 

Turning  to  me,  my  mother  said  sadly,  "Child,  do 
you  realize  what  this  means,  leaving  your  family  and 
friends  and  going  among  a  wild  people,  living,  almost, 
I  hear,  on  the  frontier,  with  Indians  almost  at  their 
door?  Mr.  Mercer,  she  is  my  baby,  and  has  always 
been  the  pet  of  the  whole  family,  it  is  true  she  has 
never  disobeyed  me  in  any  matter  that  she  was  re- 
quested to  do,  and  I  have  tried  to  keep  from  imposing 
anything  unreasonable  on  her.  Now  you  have  put 
me  to  the  test  to  give  her,  my  baby,  into  your  keeping, 
without  knowing  much  of  your  character,  disposition, 
etc.  Not  only  do  you  ask  for  her  to  be  given  to  you, 
but  you  tell  me  that  you  will  take  her  to  a  far  away 
home,  where  possibly  we  may  seldom,  if  ever,  see 
each  other  again." 

I  loved  my  mother  more  dearly  for  every  word  she 
said.     I  knew  her  inmost  feelings  were  love  for  me. 

I  was  trembling  with  suppressed  emotion,  my  love 
for  my  mother  in  the  scale  with  the  love  for  my  boy- 
lover,  my  hero,  my  life.     I  could  not  leave  the  room, 


294  forge;t-m£-nots  of  the;  civii,  war. 

much  as  I  wanted  to,  for  I  felt  that  all  my  happiness 
was  at  stake,  and  I  must  hear  every  word  for  and 
against  the  match. 

Jesse's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  as  he  said,  "I  love 
your  daughter,  and  have  loved  her  from  the  first 
moment  of  meeting  her,  better  than  everything  this 
world  contains.  Since  meeting  her  I  have  tried  to 
delude  myself  into  the  belief  that  it  was  a  boyish 
infatuation  for  a  pretty  girl,  but  no,  my  heart  goes 
out  to  her  with  every  fibre  of  my  being,  and  I  can't 
give  her  up.  She  loves  me,  and  has  always  loved  me, 
she  has  tried  to  drown  it  with  thoughts  of  others, 
but  she  can't  any  more  do  that  than  I  can  turn  the 
current  of  my  love  for  her  into  another  channel.  We 
were  made  for  each  other,  and  I  am  determined  to 
win  her,  if  it  takes  years  to  prove  my  loyalty  to  her." 

Mother  had  sat  down  at  the  beginning  of  the  conver- 
sation, and  now  and  then  she  would  so  fill  up  with 
tears  that  she  could  not  talk.  I  sat  like  a  little  criminal 
awaiting  the  verdict.     Finally  my  mother  said : 

"Mr.  Mercer,  will  you  give  me  till  tomorrow  to 
think  and  talk  over  what  is  right  and  proper  to  do? 
I  live  for  my  children,  she  is  my  baby,  the  only  un- 
married one,  and  feels  nearer  than  the  other 
children  who  are  away.  I  want  to  do  what  will 
make  her  permanently  happy.  If  you  think  she  is  so 
much  in  love  with  you  I  want  to  find  it  out,  for,  so 
far,  I  had  thought  she  was  fascinated  for  the  moment, 
and  after  your  visit  to  South  Carolina  had  gotten  over 
it  entirely. 

"There  is  another  thing,  Laura  has  no  musical  tal- 
ent, can't  even  carry  a  tune  that  any  one  knows.   Now, 


OUR  ENGAGEMENT.  295 

much  of  your  happy  home  life  will  be  in  having  a 
congenial  wife,  one  who  enters  into  all  your  tastes, 
nothing  makes  home  life  unhappier  than  uncongenial- 
ity.  Think  well,  Mr.  Mercer,  what  you  are  doing, 
every  young  man  who  falls  in  love  thinks  he  wants 
a  wife  until  he  gets  one,  and  then  he  finds  out  he 
needs  everything  else  but  a  wife." 

Jesse  arose  to  leave  and  said,  "Mrs.  Lee,  the  girls 
want  me  to  bring  Miss  Betsey  down  to  the  house  to- 
night, we  are  going  to  have  some  music,  may  I  come 
up  and  take  her  to. sister  Ann's?" 

"Certainly,"  my  mother  said,  "I  would  not  for  one 
moment  debar  her  from  an  evening's  enjoyment." 

After  he  left  mother  asked  me  many  questions,  why 
I  had  not  told  her  that  I  loved  Jesse. 

"I  felt,  mother,  that  you  would  never  approve  it, 
and  I  could  no  more  help  loving  him  than  I  could 
help  breathing,"  I  said. 

"Well,  I  will  go  down  to  see  your  sister  Cornelia 
and  Ashley  tonight  and  talk  over  the  matter  with 
them,"  mother  said. 

I  went  to  her  and  stroking  her  pretty  wavy  hair, 
now  so  streaked  with  grey,  said,  "Mother,  I  love  you 
even  more  than  I  ever  did,  and  don't  want  to  disobey 
you,  so  please  don't  make  it  too  hard  for  me." 

She  kissed  me  and  said,  "I  am  only  thinking  of 
your  future  happiness." 

That  night  I  dressed  in  my  most  becoming  dress, 
a  white  dotted  swiss  with  pink  ribbon  bows  and 
sash,  and  when  Jesse  came  for  me,  he  said,  "Miss 
Betsey,  you  look  sweet  enough  to  eat." 


296  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OE   THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

We  went  to  the  party  at  sister  Ann's,  and  such  a 
good  time  we  all  had,  that  when  time  came  to  go 
home  I  had  forgotten  that  my  happiness  had  been 
weighed  in  the  balance  all  the  evening  and  might  be 
found  wanting  tomorrow.  Jesse  could  play  the  banjo 
a  little  better  than  anybody  I  had  ever  heard  before, 
the  old  fashioned  negro  melodies  and  rag  time,  long 
before  rag  time  came  into  fashion. 


Which   this   railway  smash   reminds   me   in   an   underhanded 

way, 
Of  a  lightning-rod  dispenser  that  came  down  on  me  one  day. 
My  wife — she  liked  the  stranger,  smilin'  on  him  warm  and 

sweet; 
(It  al'ays  flatters  women  when  their  guests  are  on  the  eat!) 
And   he   hinted   that   some   ladies   never   lose   their   youthful 

charm, 
And  caressed  her  yearlin'  baby,  and  received  it  in  his  arms. 
My  sons   and   daughters   liked   him — for   he   had   progressive 

views, 
And  he  chewed  the  cud  o'  fancy,  and  gi'n  down  the  latest 

news; 
And  I  couldn't  help  but  like  him — as  I  fear  I  al'ays  must, 
The  gold  of  my  own  doctrines  in  a  fellow-heap  o'  dust, 

— Will  Carleton. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 
One  Evening's  Entertainment. 

The  Clayton  string  band  was  ushered  in  soon  after 
we  arrived  at  Mrs.  Harrell's  home.  The  young  men 
who  composed  it,  were  from  the  finest  old  families  in 
the  county.  The  McCullers  brothers,  five  in  num- 
ber, were  among  the  aristocrats  of  Clayton,  and  con- 
sidered with  the  Poole  boys  to  be  the  best  musicians 
in  the  state  for  amateurs. 

Delino  McCullers  and  William  were  first  violinists, 
and  their  touch  was  so  sweet  that  they  could  always 
awaken  the  most  responsive  chords  in  the  hearts  of 
their  hearers. 

Edgar  and  Donas  played  second  violin  and  the  violin 
cello  in  such  a  masterful  way  that  the  low  notes  re- 
echoed even  more  melody  than  the  first  violinists  could 
evoke. 

Herbert  McCullers,  one  of  the  handsomest  of  the 
brothers,  as  well  as  one  of  the  best  musicians,  usually 
played  the  guitar,  even  as  a  Spanish  Cavalier  might 
do  in  sunny  Spain. 

Then  came  Coy  Poole  and  his  brothers,  Quentin  and 
Nathan,  who  seemed  to  be  able  to  play  on  any  instru- 
ment, and  in  the  most  pleasing  style.  It  was  like  a 
pleasant  dream  to  be  awakened  in  the  middle  of  the 

299 


300  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

night  and  listen  to  a  serenade  from  these  young 
geniuses  who  played  as  professionals  might  have 
envied. 

Still,  on  this  particular  evening  their  talents  did  not 
shine  out  as  formerly,  for  Jesse,  himself  a  lover  of 
music  from  the  most  classical  to  rag  time,  could  play 
with  such  a  dash  and  with  his  whole  soul,  that  even 
the  banjo  played  by  him  seemed  like  a  wonderful 
instrument  in  his  hands,  while  the  piano  seemed  at- 
tuned to  higher  bursts  of  melody  than  ever  before 
under  his  touch.  Nature  had  been  no  niggard  with 
him  when  she  committed  all  these  talents  to  his  keep- 
ing, for  his  beautiful  tenor  voice  would  have  been 
a  generous  and  gracious  gift  to  any  person,  yet  he 
was  capable  of  getting  and  giving  more  pleasure  with 
all  these  gifts  than  any  other  artist  I  ever  knew. 

We  made  merry  till  late.  Among  the  other  accom- 
plishments that  he  developed  that  evening  was  the 
telling  of  stories  that  were  so  original,  that  I 
have  never  forgotten  them;  indeed  no  good  wife 
should  ever  forget  her  husband's  stories.  One  of 
these  will  do  more  to  show  the  reader  the  kind  of 
material  this  young  man  was  made  of  than  any  words 
I  might  say  about  him,  perhaps  in  the  dark  days 
that  came  to  us,  there  arose  in  my  mind  the  picture 
of  the  young  lightning  rod  expert  as  he  planned  and 
sold  Mr.  Stewart  the  much  abused  lightning  rods.  I 
foresaw  his  determination  to  win  me  as  he  won  the 
bet.  I  shall  tell  these  stories  in  the  very  words  he 
told  them. 


one  evening's  entertainment.  301 

The  Clock  Story. 

In  Robeson  County,  near  Lumberton,  North  Caro- 
lina, a  little  town  in  the  eastern  part  of  the  state,  there 
are  at  least  a  dozen  families  of  Scotch  descent,  some 
of  them  live  in  the  little  town,  some  of  them  live  on 
farms  a  mile  or  two  from  town.  All  of  these  people 
are  very  thrifty,  they  work  hard  and  save  their  money, 
and  all  of  them  have  money  in  the  bank. 

Along  in  1871and  1872  a  clock  company  was  work- 
ing through  this  section  of  the  state.  The  salesmen 
of  the  company  were  reaping  a  harvest,  selling  a  clock 
with  a  pretty  case.  The  clock  was  also  what  is  called 
a  calendar  clock;  that  is,  it  would  tell  the  day  of  the 
month.  These  clocks  were  sold  at  thirty-nine  dollars 
apiece.  The  company  selling  these  clocks  was  very 
accommodating,  and  the  salesmen  were  instructed  that 
whenever  they  found  a  man  who  owned  his  home 
and  wanted  a  clock,  they,  the  salesmen,  were  to  sell 
it  for  cash  if  he  could  get  the  cash,  but  if  the  cash 
was  short,  the  clock  must  be  sold  on  credit,  and  a 
note  must  be  taken,  giving  from  one  month  to  one 
year's  time  to  pay.  for  same. 

The  salesmen  were  all  young  men,  full  of  fun  and 
frolic,  but  very  good  workers.  There  was  a  great 
rivalry  between  the  salesmen  as  to  which  one  could 
sell  the  greatest  number  of  clocks.  When  nearly 
everybody  in  the  neighborhood  had  secured  a  clock 
and  the  company  was  getting  ready  to  move  over  into 
another  county,  all  the  salesmen  met  at  this  little  town 
of  Lumberton  to  turn  over  to  the  superintendent  all 


302  FORGET-ME-NOTS  oE  THE   CIVIIy  WAR. 

the  cash  that  they  could  spare,  reserving  only  enough 
to  pay  current  expenses.  Also  to  turn  over  the  notes 
taken  for  the  clocks  that  they  had  sold  on  credit. 
This  was  the  business  part  of  the  meeting,  but  the 
meeting  meant  a  great  deal  more  to  these  young  fel- 
lows, for  each  and  every  one  was  delighted  to  get  to 
a  town.  The  size  of  the  town  mattered  little  to  them, 
only  the  bigger  the  town  the  better  they  liked  it. 

At  these  meetings  every  one  had  some  experience 
to  relate  in  connection  with  their  trips  through  the 
county.  Each  one  would  brag  on  the  number  of 
clocks  that  he  had  sold,  and  relate  some  little  partic- 
ular incident  about  how  he  would  overcome  the  diffi- 
culties, as  well  as  the  scruples  of  his  customers,  and 
told  how  he  sold  the  clock  to  his  man,  whether  the 
man  wanted  a  clock  or  not.  In  fact  each  one  would 
feel  as  if  he  had  sustained  a  personal  injury  if  he 
failed  to  sell  a  clock  to  every  man  that  he  went  to 
see.  So  it  got  to  be  a  sort  of  a  disgrace  for  a  man 
to  come  and  report  that  he  had  been  baffled  in  a 
single  instance  and  had  failed  to  sell  his  clock  to  his 
man. 

At  this  meeting  the  stories  had  come  thick  and  fast, 
nearly  all  telling  of  success,  and  not  a  single  instance 
had  as  yet  been  related  where  failure  must  be  recorded, 
till  Billy  Colver,  spoke  up  and  said : 

"Well,  boys,  I  am  not  going  to  be  as  big  a  liar  as 
some  of  you,  I  am  going  to  tell  the  truth.  There 
is  a  man  living  out  on  the  Shoeheel  road  that  I  spent 
a  half  day  with,  I  thought  three  or  four  times  that 
I  had  sold  him  a  clock,  but  when  I  got  ready  to  close 


one  Evening's  entertainment.  303 

the  deal  my  man  would  back  out,  so  I  have  to  report 
this  one  failure,  and  I  want  to  add  that  my  man  told 
me  I  was  the  fourth  man  who  had  been  to  see  him 
during  the  week,  so  there  are  three  more  of  you  fel- 
lows who  could  report  at  least  this  one  failure  if  you 
only  had  the  backbone  to  do  it." 

Another  salesman  said,  "I  confess  I  am  one  of  the 
other  three  who  failed  in  this  case." 

So  the  other  two  not  to  be  outdone  in  candor,  also 
confessed  their  inability  to  sell  this  particular  man. 

The  first  speaker,  Mr.  Colver,  said,  "boys,  this  will 
never  do,  we  must  not  let  such  a  story  as  this  go  back 
to  headquarters.  This  Mr.  McClean  must  buy  a 
clock,  but  the  question  is,  how  can  it  be  done?" 

After  much  talk  it  was  agreed  that  Tim  Rowland, 
the  youngest  and  handsomest  of  all  the  salesmen, 
should  go  and  sell  a  clock  to  Mr.  McClean.  Tim  had 
a  great  reputation  as  a  salesman,  and  he  had  sold 
clocks  to  almost  every  man  that  he  had  visited.  Tim 
did  not  like  the  idea  of  going  to  see  Mr.  McClean  after 
four  other  salesmen  had  failed,  for  he  said  that  a 
stubborn  man,  after  once  refusing  to  buy,  would  be 
much  more  obstinate  than  before  he  was  approached. 

He  wanted  to  know  if  Mr.  McClean  was  married. 
One  of  the  boys  spoke  up  and  said  that  Mr.  McClean 
had  a  very  sweet,  mild-mannered  little  wife,  but  she 
was  so  modest  and  retiring  that  he  did  not  remember 
to  have  heard  her  say  one  word  while  he  was  at  Mr. 
McClean's  house. 

Tim  said  if  he  could  only  go  to  the  house  and  find 
Mr.  McClean  absent  he  was  almost  sure  that  he  could 


304  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OF  THE   CIVIL  WAR. 

sell  Mrs.  McClean  a  clock.  The  next  morning,  early, 
one  of  the  salesmen  went  to  Tim's  room  and  said, 
"Now  is  your  time  to  sell  the  clock  to  Mrs.  McClean, 
Tim,  for  I  just  saw  Mr.  McClean  over  on  the  Court 
House  square." 

So  Tim  hurried  through  his  breakfast  and  started 
off  on  his  wagon,  which  was  loaded  with  clocks,  for 
Mr.  McClean's  house  to  try  to  sell  a  clock  to  his 
wife.  He  drove  out  of  his  way  to  approach  Mr. 
McClean's  house  from  the  opposite  direction,  so  that 
when  he  arrived  at  the  house  his  horse  would  be 
headed  towards  Lumberton. 

In  an  hour  or  two  he  found  himself  in  the  road  in 
front  of  Mr.  McClean's  house.  He  walked  boldly  in 
and  knocked  on  the  front  door.  He  stood  a  little  while, 
and  receiving  no  response,  he  knocked  again,  a  little 
louder  than  before,,  still  receiving  no  response  he 
knocked  again,  louder  still. 

This  time  he  heard  some  movement  inside  the 
house,  and  waited  patiently  for  an  answer  to  his 
knock.  At  last  a  young  woman  made  her  appear- 
ance. She  had  her  sleeves  rolled  up  above  her  elbows 
and  she  was  rolling  them  down  to  hide  her  naked 
arms.  She  had  on  a  sunbonnet,  which  completely  hid 
her  face,  except  in  front,  and  a  skirt  to  the  bonnet 
covered  her  neck  and  part  of  her  shoulders.  As  soon 
as  he  could,  Tim  spoke  in  his  sweetest  tones. 

He  pulled  off  his  hat  and  kept  it  in  his  hand  while 
he  talked.  He  said,  "Good  morning,  Madam,  is  Mr. 
McClean  at  home?  I  am  very  sorry  for  I  am  in 
trouble  and  I  was  going  to  ask  a  favor  of  Mr.  McClean. 


one  evening's  entertainment.  305 

You  see  my  wagon  is  broken  down  and  I  must  leave 
my  load  of  boxes  somewhere,  so  I  can  go  to  town  with 
my  empty  wagon  to  get  it  mended.  Do  you  think 
Mr.  McClean  would  object  if  I  would  put  my  boxes 
under  the  porch  or  in  the  barn,  any  where,  so  they 
could  keep  dry  ?  O !  thank  you,  you  are  so  kind. 
What  a  beautiful  place  you  have!  I  think  the  out- 
look from  this  porch  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  that 
I  ever  saw.  That  landscape  is  pretty  enough  to  make 
an  artist  want  to  live  and  die  right  in  sight  of  so 
much  beauty.  O !  if  I  only  had  such  a  home  and  a 
pretty  little  girl  I  saw  about  ten  miles  from  here,  for 
my  wife,  I  would  be  the  happiest  mortal  on  the  earth. 
What  is  her  name,  did  you  ask?  Oh,  such  a  sweet 
name;  I  expect  you  know  her  so  I  must  not  tell  you 
her  name.  I  have  only  seen  her  once,  but  I  fell  in 
love  at  first  sight.  O,  I  tell  you  she  is  the  most  beau- 
tiful being  I  ever  saw,  such  lovely  eyes,  and  the  sweet- 
est mouth.  Why  if  I  had  a  wife  with  a  mouth  like 
that,  I  would  spend  about  half  of  my  time  kissing 
her.  Her  hair,  Oh,  you  just  ought  to  see  that  hair, 
that  hair  was  as  fine  as  silk.  She  tried  to  tie  it  up 
on  the  back  of  her  head,  but  the  hair  would  not  stand 
for  such  treatment,  so  it  just  broke  out  and  was 
hanging  all  around  her  beautiful  neck.  Color,  why 
I  can't  exactly  tell,  sometimes  I  thought  it  was  black, 
when  she  would  sit  in  the  shadow,  but  as  soon  as  she 
would  come  out  where  the  light  would  fall  on  it,  it 
would  look  like  it  was  on  fire,  there  was  so  much  red 
in  it.  When  I  got  real  close  to  her  it  did  not  look  red, 
it  was  brown.     So  I  guess  I  must  call  it  a  reddish 


306  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE   THE   CIVIE  WAR. 

brown.  You  say  you  know  her,  now  look  here,  is  she 
some  of  your  kin  folks?  She  looks  enough  like  you 
to  be  your  sister.  Pardon  me,  pardon  me,  for  keep- 
ing you  so  long.  You  really  reminded  me  so  much 
of  Miss  Mary !  There,  I  have  'let  the  cat  out  of  the 
bag'!  Well  what  difference  does  it  make,  I  know 
you  will  not  tell  on  me.  You  will  be  my  friend, 
won't  you  ?  I  am  going  to  work  hard  and  I  will  marry 
Mary  some  day,  if  she  will  have  me." 

Then  Tim  went  out  to  his  wagon  and  commenced 
bringing  his  boxes  in  and  putting  them  on  the  porch. 
When  he  had  nearly  all  of  the  boxes  in,  he  looked  at 
Mrs.  McClean.  She  was  standing  there  smiling  and 
watching  every  movement.  Tim  looked  up  with  a 
smile  on  his  face  and  asked,  "Will  you  please  tell  me 
what  time  it  is?  What!  Have  no  clock?  Why,  that 
is  the  worst  I  ever  heard  of,  to  live  away  out  in  the 
country  and  have  no  clock.  Why,  just  to  think  that 
every  one  of  those  boxes  has  a  clock  in  it.  I  will  just 
put  one  on  your  mantel  to  keep  you  company  while 
I  am  gone  to  town.  What  do  you  say,  your  husband 
will  be  angry?  He  don't  want  a  clock?  Four  clock 
men  been  here  ?  Then  he  would  not  buy,  that  is  funny. 
He  said  that  if  a  clock  man  came  here  while  he  was 
gone  you  must  slam  the  door  in  his  face?  Why, 
what  sort  of  a  man  is  he?  Has  he  a  watch?  Yes, 
well  you  see  he  don't  need  a  clock  himself,  he  has  a 
watch.  He  is  away  in  the  field  plowing,  he  looks  at 
his  watch,  it  is  dinner  time.  He  comes  on  home  to 
dinner,  you  have  no  watch,  no  clock,  you  don't  know 
the  time,  and  dinner  is  not  quite  ready.    He  is  impa- 


one  evening's  entertainment.  307 

tient;  you  say,  'I  would  have  had  your  dinner  ready, 
I  have  no  clock,  I  did  not  know  it  was  dinner  time.' 
What,  you  say  this  has  happened  many  times?  Now 
that  is  too  bad.  Look  here,  I  tell  you  what  I  will  do, 
I  want  to  sell  you  this  clock."  Tim  had  put  the  clock 
on  the  mantel  and  started  it  to  work.  It  only  lacked 
a  few  minutes  to  twelve  o'clock.  As  Tim  was  talk- 
ing the  clock  struck  twelve.  Tim  said,  "Now,  that 
is  what  I  call  real  music,  ain't  that  the  sweetest  gong 
you  ever  heard?  Look  at  that  clock,  it  is  a  thing  of 
beauty  and  a  joy  forever.  I  don't  know  anything  any- 
body can  put  in  a  home  that  will  give  it  so  much  pleas- 
ure as  a  clock!  There  it  stands  to  speak  to  you  every 
time  you  look  at  it,  and  it  tells  you  something  that 
you  want  to  know  every  time  it  speaks,  and  the  beauty 
is  that  it  never  talks  back  to  you.  It  never  gets  im- 
patient. It  is  always  in  a  good  humor,  and  it  helps 
the  other  members  of  the  family  to  keep  in  a  good 
humor,  too.  All  during  the  night,  in  sickness  or  in 
health,  there  it  stands  with  open  face  and  a  kind 
look,  to  remind  you  of  all  your  duties.  It  tells 
you  when  to  go  to  bed,  it  tells  you  when  to  get 
up,  it  tells  when  it  is  time  to  get  breakfast,  dinner 
and  supper;  it  tells  you  when  to  take  the  next  dose 
of  medicine,  it  tells  you  when  to  go  to  church. 
In  the  weary  hours  of  the  long  winter  nights  you 
wake  up  and  lay  there  hour  after  hour  and  wonder 
what  time  it  is.  There  the  clock  stands  to  mark 
off  for  you  the  hours  as  they  pass.  Now  I  will  tell 
you  what  I  will  do,  I  am  going  to  make  you  a  proposi- 
tion that  any  sensible  person  would  accept,  and  I  know 


308  FORGET-MS-NOTS   01?  TH£   CIVIL   WAR. 

that  you  are  a  sensible  person.  Now  I  will  sell  you 
that  clock  at  your  own  price  and  will  take  anything 
you  have  to  sell  at  your  own  price,  could  any  proposi- 
tion be  made  more  attractive  than  that;  now  what  do 
you  say?" 

There  was  absolute  silence  for  about  five  minutes. 
Mrs.  McClean  was  smiling,  with  a  puzzled  look  on 
her  face,  as  if  she  was  trying  to  comprehend  what 
had  been  said  to  her. 

At  last  she  said  simply,  "I  will  accept  your  proposi- 
tion. Come  down  here  to  this  pen  and  I  will  show 
you  something."  She  took  Tim  out  in  the  corner  of 
the  yard  where  there  was  a  small  pen.  On  the  floor 
of  the  pen,  was  a  very  poor  sick  looking  calf.  Mrs. 
McClean  said,  "I  will  let  you  have  that  calf  for  five 
dollars."  She  then  took  Tim  out  to  the  barn,  and 
said  "There  is  a  barrel  with  some  flax  seed  in  it,  I 
will  let  you  have  the  barrel  and  the  seed  for  three 
dollars.  Now  come  to  the  house  and  we  will  finish 
our  trading."  When  she  got  to  the  house  she  motioned 
Tim  to  be  seated,  and  went  off  in  another  room,  and 
soon  returned  with  two  silver  dollars  in  her  hand. 
She  handed  them  to  Tim  and  said,  "You  said  I  could 
have  the  clock  at  my  own  price.  Well,  I'll  give  you 
ten  dollars  for  the  clock.  You  said  you  would  take 
anything  I  had  to  sell  at  my  own  price  in  pay  for  the 
clock.  So  I  give  you  the  calf  at  five  dollars,  the  flax 
seed  at  three  dollars,  this  makes  eight  dollars  and  the 
two  dollars  I  give  you  makes  the  ten  dollars,  and  I 
hope  it  will  satisfy  you  for  I  have  nothing  else  to  sell." 

Tim  assured  her  that  he  was  perfectly  satisfied,  and 


one  evening's  entertainment.  309 

said  further,  that  he  wished  to  beg  her  pardon  for 
having  used  a  subterfuge  to  get  an  audience.  He  said 
he  had  come  from  town  especially  to  sell  her  the  clock, 
and  now  that  she  had  bought  one  if  she  would  only 
forgive  him  for  telling  her  a  story  about  his  wagon 
being  broken  down  he  would  get  his  calf,  his  seed 
and  the  balance  of  his  clocks,  and  with  heartfelt  thanks 
for  her  kindness  he  would  bid  her  good  day.  Say- 
ing also  that  if  he  got  along  well  with  the  beautiful 
Mary,  that  he  had  mentioned,  that  he  hoped  to  see 
her  again  some  day. 

Putting  all  his  things  together,  he  was  soon  on  his 
wagon  and  on  his  way  back  to  town.  Tim  was  won- 
dering what  his  friends  would  say  about  his  selling  a 
$39.00  clock  for  $10.00.  Then  he  remembered  that 
Mrs.  McClean  said  the  calf's  mother  was  a  fine  milk 
cow,  so  he  said,  I  may  get  a  good  price  for  the  calf. 
Then  his  mind  took  in  the  flax  seed.  Well,  "by 
George,"  I  will  sell  them  too.  So  when  he  got  to 
town  he  had  all  his  plans  made.  He  went  to  the 
Court  House  and  asked  the  sheriff  if  he  could  sell  some 
flax  seed  and  a  fine  Jersey  calf.  The  sheriff  readily 
gave  his  permission.  So  Tim  loafed  around  till  Court 
adjourned  for  the  day,  and  as  he  saw  the  people 
come  out  of  the  Court  House,  he  mounted  his  wagon 
and  commenced  hollowing  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "Oh, 
yes,  O!  ye-s,  O,  yes,  come  this  way!  come  this  way! 
Now  gentlemen,  I  want  to  offer  you  something  that 
they  tell  me  will  bring  you  the  most  prolific  crop  and 
make  you  more  money  than  anything  that  you  can 
cultivate,  will  make  you  more  money  than  anything 


310  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

you  can  plant  in  this  country.  I  am  telling  you  that 
this  thing  that  I  am  going  to  offer  you  will  grow  as 
fast  and  do  as  well  in  this  country  as  it  will  in  any 
country.  If  this  is  true  what  a  wonderful  country 
this  will  be  in  a  few  years !  Why,  you  will  be  so 
rich  you  will  not  have  to  work  any  more,  you  will 
have  nothing  to  do  but  live  on  the  interest  of  your 
money.  Now,  gentlemen,  you  have  heard  of  the  Nor- 
way flax,  the  most  wonderful  flax  in  the  world.  This 
flax  is  as  fine  as  silk  and  grows  as  high  as  your 
head.  I  am  told  that  it  will  yield  one  hundred  per  cent, 
every  year,  just  think  of  it,  one  hundred  per  cent,  per 
year!  Now  I  have  only  a  very  limited  quantity  of 
this  flax  seed ;  it  is  so  scarce  I  will  have  to  charge  you 
one  dollar  for  a  large  spoonful.  Now  who  will  take 
a  spoonful  at  one  dollar?  You?  Thank  you;  and 
you?  thank  you;"  and  so  Tim  went  on  till  he  had 
sold  fifty-five  spoonfuls.  When  he  saw  his  crowd 
leaving  Tim  said,  "now,  gentlemen,  I  had  flax  seed  for 
many  of  you,  but  I  have  sold  it  all.  Now  I  have  one 
more  thing  to  sell.  This  one  thing  only  one  man 
can  get,  and  the  man  who  gets  this  one  thing,  that  I 
now  offer  you,  in  a  year  or  so  will  be  the  proudest 
man  in  this  country.  Now  I  offer  you  this  imported 
Jersey  calf.  This  is  the  finest  stock  ever  brought  to 
the  United  States  from  the  Island  of  Jersey.  This  is 
a  cow  calf  and  came  from  the  biggest  and  best  milk- 
ing family  of  cows  ever  owned  on  earth.  Why,  gen- 
tlemen, I  am  told  that  the  mother  of  this  calf  gave  five 
gallons  of  milk  a  day.  That  the  father  of  this  calf 
gave  five  gallons  of  milk  a  day,  that  the  grandmother 


one;  evening's  entertainment.  311 

of  this  calf  gave  five  gallons  of  milk  a  day,  and  the 
grandfather  gave  five  gallons  of  milk  a  day.  Now, 
how  much  am  I  offered?  $10.00,  $15.00,  $20.00, 
$30.00,  $35.00,  $40.00,  $45.00,  $50.00,  $50.00,  $50.00, 
going  at  $50.00,  can't  you  give  me  $5.00  more? 
$50.00,  $50.00,  $50.00,  make  it  five,  $55.00.  Now, 
gentlemen,  don't  lose  this  bargain.  I  am  going  to  sell, 
going,  going,  once  going,  $55.00,  $55.00,  $55.00, 
$55.00,  going  twice,  going,  going,  last  call,  are  you 
all  done,  $55.00,  third  and  last  call,  and  sold  to  that 
gentleman  over  there  at  $55.00.  Now,  gentlemen, 
accept  my  thanks  for  your  kindness."  After  getting 
his  money  Tim  drove  off. 

The  scene  shifts  and  goes  back  to  the  McClean  farm. 
Mrs.  McClean  was  greatly  pleased  that  she  had  suc- 
ceeded in  buying  a  clock,  and  was  more  than  pleased 
that  she  could  pay  for  it  with  the  calf  that  Mr.  McClean 
was  so  anxious  to  get  rid  of,  in  fact  had  said  that  if 
the  calf  lived  another  day  that  he  intended  to  kill  it. 
He  also  spoke  of  the  flax  seed,  saying  that  they  were 
worm  eaten  and  were  worthless,  and  he  intended  to 
throw  them  away.  So  she  had  only  paid  out  two  dol- 
lars in  real  money,  and  she  just  considered  that  she 
got  the  beautiful  clock  for  two  dollars.  But  there  was 
a  sting  in  the  whole  transaction,  and  this  made  her  a 
little  sad.  The  thing  that  worried  her  was  the  fact 
that  if  a  clock  man  came  to  his  house  while  he  was 
away,  she  was  to  slam  the  door  in  his  face  and  go  on 
about  her  business. 

What  could  she  say  when  her  husband  came  home  ? 
So  she  must  have  thought  of  something  to  say  or  to 


312  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE  THE   CIVIL,   WAR. 

do,  for  she  went  hurriedly  out  to  the  barn  and  got 
some  corn  in  a  bucket,  came  back  in  the  yard  and 
commenced  to  call  the  chickens.  She  shelled  the  corn 
and  threw  it  to  the  chickens.  She  dropped  the  corn 
nearer  and  nearer  to  herself  till  she  was  dropping  the 
corn  right  at  her  feet.  The  chickens  crowded  around 
her  closer  and  closer.  She  looked  them  over  well, 
and  reached  down  and  picked  up  a  nice  half  grown 
young  rooster,  there  was  one  squawk  and  a  little 
whirl  of  the  arm  and  the  chicken  was  fluttering  on 
the  ground  with  its  head  off.  In  a  little  while  she 
was  on  her  way  to  the  house  with  the  chicken.  She 
cleaned  it,  cut  it  up  and  put  it  aside,  after  sprinkling 
it  over  with  salt.  She  got  out  her  flour  and  made 
some  biscuits,  she  got  out  some  potatoes  and  cleaned 
them,  she  got  out  some  rice,  washed  it,  shook  up  her 
fire  in  the  cooking  stove  and  started  cooking  supper. 
She  would  stop  her  work  once  in  a  while  and  go  in 
and  look  at  her  clock.  John  would  be  coming  along 
soon.  So  she  sat  and  watched  down  the  road.  She 
got  her  table  set  and  put  a  clean  table  cloth  on.  She 
made  the  table  look  as  nice  as  if  she  was  looking  for 
company.  She  got  out  some  preserved  peaches  and 
made  some  pie  crust  out  of  her  biscuit  dough,  putting 
in  a  little  butter  to  make  it  short  and  crisp. 

Everything  was  now  ready.  It  commenced  to  turn 
dark.  She  lighted  her  lamps,  sat  down  and  waited; 
at  last  she  heard  the  rattle  of  chains  and  the  snap 
of  the  wagon  wheels,  the  patter  of  horses'  feet.  She 
knew  John  was  coming,  maybe  it  was  some  other 
farmer  on  his  way  home  from  the  town.    What  could 


one  evening's  entertainment.  313 

keep  John  so  late?  Yes,  it  was  John,  he  had  turned 
in  and  gone  down  towards  the  barn.  She  thought 
that  it  took  him  a  long  time  to  get  through  with  his 
horses.  She  went  in  and  took  another  look  at  the 
clock,  then  went  over  the  bureau  and  looked  at  herself 
in  the  glass.  She  thought  she  looked  a  little  paler 
than  usual.  She  smoothed  her  hair  and  went  back  to 
the  kitchen.  Yes,  there  was  John  coming  at  last. 
What  would  he  say?  John  came  on  in,  walked  over 
to  a  shelf  where  there  was  a  bucket  of  water,  a  wash 
basin  and  a  fresh  towel  hanging  on  the  rack.  He 
washed  his  hands. 

His  wife  was  watching  him;  as  soon  as  she  saw 
him  giving  his  hands  the  finishing  touches  with  the 
towel,  she  said  in  her  sweetest  tones,  "Come  right  in 
John,  I  know  you  must  be  tired,  and  I  have  a  nice, 
warm  supper  for  you.  Here  is  some  nice  fried 
chicken  that  I  know  you  love,  and  some  nice  hot  bis- 
cuit that  ought  to  be  mighty  good,  because  I  put 
some  good  work  on  them." 

John  threw  up  his  head  and  took  a  good  look  at  his 
wife.  He  was  wondering  what  made  his  wife  so  nice 
and  pleasant  tonight.  She  rambled  on  asking  him 
about  the  town,  asking  about  the  news,  handing  him 
more  chicken,  more  biscuits,  more  coffee.  She  kept 
him  busy.  All  of  a  sudden  there  was  the  clock  strik- 
ing in  the  other  room.  John  asked  "What  is  that?" 
The  wife  said  "go  on,  John,  and  finish  your  supper 
and  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it."  John  with  his  brows 
knit  with  a  fierce  look  in  his  face,  said  "all  about 
what?" 


314  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

"Go  on  John  and  finish  your  supper  and  I  will  tell 
you  all  about  it.  Go  on  John,  now  please  finish  your 
supper  and  don't  get  mad  about  it.  It  is  nothing-  to 
get  mad  about.  Now  please  go  on  and  finish  your 
supper." 

John  said,  "what  did  I  tell  you?  Didn't  I  tell  you 
if  any  clock  man  came  here  while  I  was  gone  that 
you  must  slam  the  door  in  his  face  and  go  on  about 
your  business?"  "Now,  John."  "Didn't  I  tell  you 
that?  Now  you  have  gone  and  disobeyed  me,  is  that 
the  way  for  a  wife  to  treat  her  husband?" 

"Now,  please,  John,"  said  the  wife  in  pleading 
tones.  But  John  could  see  only  one  side  and  kept  on. 
At  last  there  came  a  gray  look  around  the  wife's 
mouth,  the  face  turned  a  little  paler,  she  was  trying 
.to  swallow  something.  She  got  up  out  of  her  chair 
and  said,  "yes,  you  miserable  wretch,  you  don't  de- 
serve even  the  little  consideration  that  I  have  for  you. 
You  talk  to  me  about  disobedience !  Why,  you  stingy 
cuss,  I  have  been  your  obedient  slave.  Here  I  have 
cooked  all  your  meals  for  two  years,  I  have  mended  all 
your  old  ragged  clothes  for  two  years,  fed  your  chick- 
ens, milked  your  cows,  fed  your  hogs,  you  miserable 
man  you!  I  get  up  early  and  go  to  bed 
late  to  get  through  the  work  that  you  should 
hire  somebody  to  help  do.  Talk  to  me  about 
obedience!  You  don't  know  how  to  treat  a 
decent  woman.  You  are  too  stingy.  You  go 
off  to  the  field  with  your  watch  in  your  pocket, 
when  you  feel  a  little  hungry  you  look  at  your  watch 
and  say,  'Yes,  it  is  dinner  time,  I  will  go  home  to 


one  evening's  entertainment.  315 

dinner!'  Here  I  am  with  no  watch,  no  clock,  don't 
know  what  time  it  is,  and  must  guess  the  time  to 
get  my  dinner;  you  come  home,  dinner  is  a  few  min- 
utes late,  you  want  to  know  what  is  the  matter  with 
the  dinner.  There  is  nothing  the  matter  with  the 
dinner,  the  matter  is  with  you,  you  miserable  stingy 
thing  you.  That's  what  is  the  matter  I  can  tell  you,  and 
I  can  tell  you  something  else ;  I  can  tell  you  that  you  can 
get  somebody  else  to  cook  for  you,  for  I  will  not 
live  with  a  man  so  mean  and  stingy.  You  remember 
you  said  you  intended  to  kill  that  sick  calf.  Well,  I 
sold  that  calf  for  five  dollars.  Do  you  remember  that 
barrel  of  worm  eaten  flax  seed,  that  you  were  going 
to  throw  away?  I  sold  it  for  three  dollars  and  I  took 
the  last  money  I  had  on  earth  and  gave  it  with  the 
calf  and  the  flax  seed  for  the  clock.  You  knew  that 
I  wanted  a  clock,  and  you  were  too  stingy  to  buy  one 
for  me,  and  I  am  now  done  with  you.  Tomorrow  I 
will  go  home  to  my  mother." 

About  this  time  John  was  laughing  so  he  could 
hardly  stand  up.  The  wife  said  "What  are  you  laugh- 
ing at?  I  don't  see  anything  to  laugh  at."  John  put 
his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  brought  out  a  package 
wrapped  in  a  piece  of  newspaper.  He  said,  "My  dear 
wife,  you  are  the  smartest  wife  in  the  world!  I  am 
the  darn  fool.  Here  is  a  package  of  the  same  flax 
seed  and  I  paid  one  dollar  for  it.  I  have  the  calf 
down  yonder  in  my  wagon,  and  I  paid  fifty-five  dollars 
for  the  measly  thing." 


316  eorget-me-nots  of  the  civil  war. 

Mr.   Peel's  Curiosity. 

Down  in  Eastern  North  Carolina  there  is  a  railroad 
from  Weldon  to  Wilmington,  a  part  now  of  the  Atlan- 
tic Coast  Line.  This  road  passes  through  many  little 
towns.  Among  others,  there  is  a  little  town  down 
near  Wilmington  called  Burgaw.  It  is  not  much 
of  a  town.  It  has  one  store,  one  church,  one 
blacksmith  shop,  one  turpentine  distillery,  one  cotton 
gin,  one  saw  mill,  one  boarding  house,  which  the 
owner  calls  a  hotel.  The  proprietor  of  this  hotel  is 
a  very  unique  character.  He  has  the  reputation  of 
having  more  curiosity  than  any  man  in  the  whole 
state.  It  has  been  said  about  him  that  when  a  stranger 
came  to  town  Mr.  Peel  (for  this  was  his  name),  would 
quit  his  business  and  follow  him  around  and  listen 
to  everything  that  he  would  say,  so  that  he  could  guess, 
by  what  he  heard,  who  the  stranger  was,  what  was 
his  name,  where  he  came  from,  how  long  he  intended 
to  stay,  and  where  he  was  going  when  he  left. 

One  day  a  smart  looking  stranger  got  off  the  train 
and  went  over  to  Mr.  Peel's  hotel.  At  once  Mr.  Peel 
got  interested  and  would  hardly  leave  the  stranger 
long  enough  to  attend  to  any  business.  The  stranger 
started  on  a  stroll,  so  Mr.  Peel  started  along  behind. 
When  the  stranger  would  meet  some  one  and  stop  to 
ask  some  questions,  Mr.  Peel  would  draw  near,  and 
stand  by  with  his  ears  wide  open  listening,  trying  to 
catch  something  that  would  give  him  the  information 
that  he  was  almost  dying  to  know. 

The  first  man  the  stranger  met  was  a  countryman 


one  evening's  entertainment.  317 

with  a  little  bull  cart,  with  one  barrel  on  it.  The 
stranger  stopped  and  asked  the  countryman,  "What 
have  you  got  in  your  barrel?"     "Turpentine." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"Going  to  sell  it  to  the  'stillery." 

"What's  he  going  to  do  with  it?" 

"Going  to  bile  it  I  s'pose." 

"What  does  he  bile  it  for?" 

"To  get  the  sperits  out'n  it." 

"What's  he  going  to  do  with  the  sperits?" 

"Damfino." 

"What's  left  when  he  gets  the  sperits  out?" 

"Rosum." 

"What  do  they  do  with  rosum?" 

"Sell  it  to  the  Yankees,  I  guess." 

Mr.  Peel  was  standing  near,  listening  to  all  this 
talk,  but  could  get  nothing  out  of  it  at  all  to  satisfy 
him. 

The  stranger  went  on  to  the  blacksmith  shop  and 
stopped  and  asked  the  blacksmith  (who  was  shoeing 
a  horse)  : 

"How  many  nails  do  you  put  in  each  shoe?" 

"Sometimes  six,  sometimes  eight,"  said  the  black- 
smith. 

"Do  horses  go  to  bed  with  their  shoes  on?" 

"I  guess  so." 

"Do  horses  have  corns  on  their  feet  like  folks?" 

"Yes,  they  do." 

Mr.  Peel  was  standing  near  with  a  troubled  look 
on  his  face,  for  he  could  make  out  nothing  from  all 
this  talk. 


318  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

The  stranger  went  on  further,  and  met  a  nice  look- 
ing man  with  a  white  neck  tie  and  a  double  breasted 
Prince  Albert  coat.    The  stranger  stopped  and  asked: 

"Are  you  the  preacher  of  this  town?" 

"Yes  sir." 

"Do  you  believe  in  eternal  punishment?" 

"The  Scripture  clearly  teaches  it." 

"Do  you  believe  in  infant  damnation?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  about  that." 

"Do  you  believe  in  the  atonement?" 

"Well,  the  Scripture  clearly  teaches  that." 

Mr.  Peel  was  standing  near,  taking  all  this  con- 
versation in,  but  could  make  nothing  of  it. 

The  stranger  went  on  back  to  the  hotel.  He  sat 
down  and  Mr.  Peel  came  in  and  sat  down  near  him, 
looking  at  the  stranger  in  such  a  longing  way.  Both 
sat  quite  still  for  some  time.  At  last  Mr.  Peel  could 
not  stand  it  longer,  so  he  leaned  over  toward  the 
stranger  and  said  in  his  most  winning  tones : 

"I  can't  make  it  out  at  all.  I  can't  make  it  out 
at  all." 

"Can't  make  what  out?"  said  the  stranger. 

"I  can't  make  out  what  you  do  for  a  living." 

"Now,  you  think  pretty  well  of  me  don't  you,  Mr. 
Peel?"  said  the  stranger. 

"Yes,"  drawled  Mr.  Peel. 

"Well,  I  have  not  done  anything  to  make  you  think 
less  of  me,  have  I,  Mr.  Peel?" 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Peel. 

"Well,  I  prefer  to  keep  to  myself  what  I  do." 

This  did  not  squelch  Mr.  Peel,  who  still  gazed  at 


one  evening's  entertainment.  319 

the  stranger  with  such  a  yearning  interest.  At  last 
Mr.  Peel  said: 

"Are  you  an  insurance  man?" 

"No." 

"Are  you  a  lightning  rod  man?" 

"No." 

"Are  you  a  book  seller?" 

"No." 

"Are  you  a  revenue  officer?" 

"No." 

This  was  very  discouraging,  but  it  did  not  stop  Mr. 
Peel.    After  a  long  wait  in  silence,  Mr.  Peel  said: 

"Well,  I'll  be  gol  darned  if  I  can  make  it  out  at  all, 
Mr.  Man,  what  in  the  world  do  you  do  for  a  living?" 

"Now,  look  here,  Mr.  Peel,  I  don't  mind  telling  you 
what  I  do,  as  you  are  so  anxious  to  know,  but  you 
must  swear  to  me  that  you  will  never  tell  a  soul  on 
earth  what  I  tell  you;  swear?" 

"W-e-11,  I  won't  tell  anyone,"  said  Mr.  Peel. 

"Well,  I  am  a  gambler,"  said  the  stranger. 

"A  what?"  said  Mr.  Peel. 

"A  gambler,"  replied  the  stranger. 

"Well,  I'll  be  gol  darned,  what  do  you  gamble  on?" 

"Anything,  everything.  Here  is  a  pack  of  cards.  I 
will  bet  five  dollars  that  I  can  turn  Jack  every  time 
(flipping  up  a  Jack),  will  you  take  that  bet?" 

"No,  I  can't  bet,  I  belong  to  the  church." 

"Well,  here  are  some  dice.  I  will  bet  you  ten  dol- 
lars that  I  can  turn  sixes  every  time  (throwing  the 
dice  on  the  table).    Will  you  take  this  bet?" 

"No,  I  can't  bet,  I  belong  to  the  church." 


320  FORGET-ME-NOTS  OE  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

"Well,  there  are  two  lumps  of  sugar,  that  one  is 
yours  and  this  one  is  mine.  I'll  bet  you  twenty-five 
dollars  that  a  fly  will  light  on  mine  first,  will  you 
take  that  bet" 

"No,  I  can't  bet,  I  belong  to  the  church." 

After  this  the  stranger  quieted  down  for  some  time 
and  looked  away  off  into  space.  At  last  he  spied  the 
clock.     He  then  said  to  Mr.  Peel : 

"Mr.  Peel,  did  it  ever  strike  you  what  a  difficult 
thing  it  is  to  put  your  mind  on  one  thing  and  keep 
it  there  for  one  hour?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  as  I  ever  did." 

"Now,  there  is  that  clock,  with  its  pendulum  going 
backward  and  forward  (pointing  his  finger  and  fol- 
lowing the  pendulum  of  the  clock),  here  she  goes, 
there  she  goes,  here  she  goes,  there  she  goes.  Do  you 
think  you  can  follow  that  pendulum  with  you  finger 
for  one  hour,  Mr.  Peel?" 

"Well,  that  is  dead  easy,"  said  Mr.  Peel. 

"Well,  I  will  bet  you  fifty  dollars  that  you  can't." 

"Well,  I'll  be  gol  darned  if  I  don't  try  you  once," 
said  Mr.  Peel  (pulling  out  his  money  and  throwing 
fifty  dollars  on  the  table).  The  stranger  put  a  simi- 
lar amount  on  the  table  and  said: 

"Now,  Mr.  Peel,  let  us  understand  each  other.  If 
you  keep  your  mind  on  the  pendulum  of  that  clock 
and  follow  it  with  your  finger  for  one  hour,  the 
money  is  yours,  if  you  let  your  mind  wander  one 
moment  and  forget  to  follow  that  pendulum  with  your 
finger,  you  will  lose  your  money.  Do  you  under- 
stand that?" 


one  evening's  entertainment.  321 

"Yep." 

"All  right,  it  is  just  half  past  nine  now,  you  can 
commence."  Mr.  Peel  pointed  his  finger  at  the  pen- 
dulum and  followed  the  motion,  saying: 

"Here  she  goes  and  there  she  goes,  here  she  goes 
and  there  she  goes,  here  she  goes  and  there  she  goes." 

The  stranger  said,  "I  believe  I  will  just  take  that 
$100.00  and  take  a  walk." 

Mr.  Peel  got  a  little  anxious,  but  stuck  to  his  job. 
"Here  she  goes  and  there  she  goes,  here  she  goes  and 
there  she  goes."     , 

About  this  time  in  came  Mrs.  Peel.  She  looked  at 
Mr.  Peel  for  a  minute  trying  to  make  out  what  was 
going  on.  Mr.  Peel  got  a  little  madder  for  he  thought 
his  wife  was  in  collusion  with  the  stranger  to  win  his 
money,  but  he  stuck  to  his  job. 

"Here  she  goes  and  there  she  goes,  here  she  goes  and 
there  she  goes." 

Mrs.  Peel  said,  "what  on  earth  are  you  doing,  Ira? 
What  in  the  world  are  you  doing?  Stop  that,  stop 
that,  I  do  believe  the  man  has  gone  crazy." 

She  rushed  out.  Mr.  Peel  stuck  to  his  job.  Here 
she  goes  and  there  she  goes.  In  a  few  minutes 
in  came  Mrs.  Peel  with  the  family  doctor.  The  doc- 
tor walked  up  to  Mr.  Peel,  taking  his  other  hand. 
All  this  made  Mr.  Peel  get  madder  than  ever,  but  he 
stuck  to  his  job.  Here  she  goes,  there  she  goes,  here 
she  goes,  there  she  goes. 

Mr.  Peel's  eyes  looked  glassy,  saliva  was  running 
down  his  mustache,  he  looked  like  a  wild  man,  but 
he  stuck  to  his  job. 


322  EORGET-ME-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

The  doctor  said,  "Mr.  Peel,  calm  yourself,  calm 
yourself." 

Mr.  Peel  paid  no  attention,  stuck  to  his  job.  Here 
she  goes,  there  she  goes.  Here  she  goes,  there  she 
goes.    Here  she  goes,  there  she  goes. 

The  doctor  turned  to  Mrs.  Peel  and  said,  "I  do  be- 
lieve he  has  gone  crazy.  Get  me  some  scissors,  get 
me  soap,  get  me  a  razor.  I  will  shave  the  hair  from 
the  back  of  the  neck  and  put  a  mustard  plaster  on  the 
back  of  his  neck  and  will  try  to  save  his  life." 

Mrs.  Peel  got  all  the  things  the  doctor  needed. 

The  doctor  went  on  putting  the  mustard  plaster  on 
Mr.  Peel's  neck,  but  this  did  not  stop  Mr.  Peel;  he 
stuck  to  his  job. 

"Here  she  goes,  there  she  goes.  Here  she  goes, 
there  she  goes.     Here  she  goes,  there  she  goes. 

At  last  as  half  past  ten  o'clock  arrived  Mr.  Peel 
said,  "There,  by  gum,  I  have  won!  I  have  won  the 
money !" 

"What  money?" 

"Why,  I  bet  that  stranger  fifty  dollars  that  I  would 
follow  the  pendulum  of  that  clock  for  one  hour,  and 
I  have  done  it." 

"Why,  that  stranger  left  on  the  ten  o'clock  train," 
said  Mrs.  Peel. 

Jesse's  Masterpiece. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  salesmen  of  a  Lightning  Rod 
Company  that  I  am  working  for  in  the  town  of  Green- 
ville, S.  C,  one  of  the  salesmen  named  Lipscombe  told 
a  story  about  his  efforts  to  sell  lightning  rods  to  a  Mr. 


one;  evening's  entertainment.  323 

P.  G.  Stewart  who  lived  about  eight  miles  southeast 
of  a  little  town  called  Pendleton.  Lipscombe  said 
that  old  man  Stewart  was  the  toughest  proposition  he 
had  ever  struck.  He  said  Mr.  Stewart  was  a  well  to 
do  farmer,  that  he  owned  a  mill  and  was  also  running 
a  country  store.  Mr.  Stewart  had  plenty  of  money 
to  pay  for  the  rods,  but  did  not  seem  to  want  them. 
Lipscombe  said  he  had  appealed  to  Mr.  Stewart  in 
the  most  eloquent  fashion,  to  influence  him  to  buy  the 
rods,  but  to  no  avail.  Mr.  Stewart  did  not  seem  to 
want  the  rods.  Lipscombe  had  explained  the  best 
way  he  could,  all  about  how  the  metal  rod  was  a  con- 
ductor of  electricity,  and  if  the  lightning  should  strike 
the  house  the  rod  would  be  a  protector.  Nothing 
Lipscombe  could  say  seemed  to  make  an  impression 
on  Mr.  Stewart,  so  Mr.  Lipscombe  drove  away  with- 
out selling  any  lightning  rods  to  Mr.  Stewart.  He  said 
he  did  not  believe  there  was  a  man  living  who  could 
sell  a  lightning  rod  to  old  man  Stewart. 

Lipscombe  had  hardly  stopped  talking  before  an- 
other salesman  named  Grubbs  spoke  up  and  said : 

"Why,  that  old  man  you  are  talking  about  is  the 
same  old  cuss  I  spent  a  whole  day  with,  trying  to  sell 
him  a  rod.  I  knew  right  away  I  could  not  do  any- 
thing with  the  old  man,  because  he  had  a  mouth  like 
a  slit  in  a  board,  and  a  chin  like  the  end  of  a  brick, 
so  strong  and  square,  then  the  upper  back  of  the 
head  run  to  seed,  so  I  knew  that  he  was  as  stubborn 
as  a  mule.  I  didn't  fool  away  much  time  with  the 
old  man,  I  went  for  the  old  lady.  I  told  her  every 
story  of  damage  done  by  lightning  that  had  been  pub- 


324  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE  THE   OVIE   WAR. 

lished  in  the  papers  all  summer.  I  knew  by  heart  all 
these  stories,  and  rattled  them  off  with  all  the  harrow- 
ing details,  till  I  had  eighteen  already  dead  and  about 
twenty  more  ready  to  kill,  if  the  lightning  would  only 
hold  out.  I  had  the  eyes  of  the  old  lady  bulging  out, 
and  looking  as  big  as  saucers.  I  knew  I  had  her 
all  ready  to  say  yes,  that  she  wanted  some  lightning 
rods,  when  old  man  Stewart  came  in.  As  soon  as 
he  looked  at  his  wife  and  saw  the  look  of  terror  on 
her  face,  talk  about  demons,  well,  you  just  ought  to 
have  seen  old  man  Stewart!  He  did  not  say  much, 
but  what  he  said  was  right  to  the  point.  He  said, 
'What  you  skeering  my  old  woman  for?  This  here 
house  has  been  standing  here  for  twenty-three  years, 
and  the  Lord  has  not  struck  it  yet,  when  He  does  get 
ready  to  strike  it,  your  little  rods  will  do  no  good.' 
This  is  all  he  said,  but  he  pointed  toward  the  front 
gate  with  his  forefinger,  and  I  looked  at  that  square 
jaw  of  his,  and  his  mouth  was  shut  like  a  steel  trap, 
and  I  understood  exactly  what  he  meant,  so  I  said, 
'Goodbye  to  you  all.'  " 

Another  salesman  named  Bagwell,  spoke  up  and 
said: 

"Well,  don't  this  beat  anything  you  ever  heard? 
And  just  to  think  I  was  at  old  man  Stewart's  last 
Sunday,  spent  the  day  with  him  and  went  to  church 
with  his  family!  Did  you  see  the  pretty  daughter? 
Why,  I  am  dead  gone  on  her.  I  never  spent  a  more 
pleasant  day  in  my  life.  They  just  fed  "me  on  the 
best  the  farm  afforded,  and  the  old  lady,  ain't  she 
lovely?    Why  do  you  know  she  noticed  a  button  was 


one  evening's  entertainment.  325 

lost  off  my  coat.  She  looked  up  a  button  to  match  and 
sewed  the  button  on  my  coat  for  me.  The  old  man 
talked  about  everything  he  could  think  of,  except  light- 
ning rods,  but  I  thought  that  was  because  it  was  Sun- 
day and  he  was  too  religious.  So  I  kept  my  mouth 
shut  on  lightning  rods,  but  I  fully  expected  to  sell 
him  on  Monday  morning,  but  when  Monday  morning 
came,  the  old  man  was  up  and  gone  before  I  got  out 
of  bed.  So  when  I  came  down  to  breakfast  and 
learned  that  he  was  gone,  and  also  learned  that  two 
other  lightning  rod  men  had  been  there  during  the 
month,  I  felt  like  two  cents." 

Grubbs  said  he  would  just  like  to  see  the  salesman 
that  could  sell  old  man  Stewart  a  lightning  rod. 

Then  the  manager  of  the  company  spoke  up  and 
said  there  was  a  salesman  in  the  company  that  could 
sell  rods  to  old  man  Stewart.  Lipscombe  said  that  he 
had  just  fifty  dollars  in  his  pocket  to  bet  that  no  sales- 
man in  the  company  could  sell  old  man  Stewart  any 
rods. 

The  manager  said,  "Well,  I  will  just  take  that  bet, 
just  to  teach  you  how  to  take  better  care  of  your 
money." 

So  the  bet  was  made  and  the  manager  picked  me 
out  to  sell  the  rods  to  old  man  Stewart. 

I  said  I  hardly  thought  it  was  fair  to  expect  me  to 
sell  rods  to  Mr.  Stewart  after  three  other  salesmen 
had  spent  so  much  time  on  him  and  failed.  I  thought 
that  Mr.  Stewart  would  be  more  prejudiced  now  than 
he  was  before  any  one  had  talked  to  him  on  the  sub- 
ject, and  I  preferred  to  put  in  my  time  in  a  way  that 


326  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF   THE   CIVII,   WAR. 

would  be  more  profitable  to  me  than  wasting  my  time 
and  talents  on  a  man  like  Mr.  Stewart. 

Mr.  Gugherty,  the  manager,  said,  "Go  on,  Jess,  you 
can  sell  him  all  right,  and  to  make  it  more  interesting, 
I  will  give  you  the  money  won  if  you  sell  the  rods." 
The  fifty  dollars  sounded  good  to  me,  so  I  asked  how 
much  time  would  be  allowed  me  in  which  to  sell  the 
rods.  Lipscombe  said  I  could  take  till  Judgment  day 
if  I  wanted  it,  only  it  would  postpone  the  settling  of 
the  bet  too  long.  So,  after  much  talk  it  was  settled 
as  to  the  time,  and  I  was  given  three  days  to  accom- 
plish what  was  considered  the  impossible. 

At  last  after  much  persuasion  I  was  almost  ban- 
tered into  trying  my  skill  in  the  case,  so  to  please  the 
manager  and  to  get  the  fifty  dollars  extra,  if  possible, 
I  undertook  to  sell  the  lightning  rods  to  Mr.  Stewart. 

I  borrowed  a  white  man  as  a  helper,  as  my  man  was 
a  negro.  I  told  this  man  that  we  would  drive  down 
within  three  or  four  miles  of  Mr.  Stewart's  house, 
and  he  would  stop  and  stay  till  the  next  afternoon. 
He  must  then  come  on  down  to  Mr.  Stewart's  and 
get  there  just  in  time  to  stay  all  night.  I  would  go 
on  to  Mr.  Stewart's  on  foot  and  would  get  a  job 
with  him  if  I  could. 

I  said  to  the  helper,  "when  you  come  to  Mr.  Stew- 
art's you  must  not  know  me.  It  makes  no  difference 
what  you  see  me  doing,  don't  you  laugh,  or  show  any 
signs  of  recognition.  You  simply  ask  for  the  privi- 
lege of  staying  all  night,  and  say  that  you  are  willing 
to  pay  for  your  lodging.  The  following  morning  you 
will  know  whether  I  have  sold  the  rods  or  not." 


one  evening's  entertainment.  327 

Well,  we  went  on  down  to  the  neighborhood  where 
Mr.  Stewart  lived.  The  wagon  with  the  helper  was 
stopped  about  three  miles  away,  and  I  went  on  foot 
to  get  a  job  with  Mr.  Stewart.  When  I  got  to  his 
house,  I  was  told  that  he  was  down  at  the  mill.  I  went 
on  to  the  mill  and  found  him  there  at  work  on  a  mill 
wheel.  He  was  a  great  big  man,  with  a  clean  shaven 
face,  and  his  face  was  as  red  as  blood,  and  looked  as 
if  the  blood  would  pop  out  of  the  skin.  He  was 
stooping  down  making  some  marks  on  a  big  piece  of 
pasteboard.  He  raised  up  and  took  a  good  look  at  me 
as  I  spoke  to  him.  I  did  nearly  all  the  talking.  I  told 
him  I  wanted  a  job  to  make  some  money,  so  that  I 
could  get  back  home,  for  I  lived  in  North  Carolina. 
He  asked  me  what  I  was  doing  down  there.  I  told 
him  I  went  down  with  a  man  with  some  horses  and 
expected  to  hold  my  job  longer,  but  here  I  was  laid 
off  with  little  money  in  my  pocket,  so  I  had  to  go  to 
work.  What  could  I  do?  Well,  most  any  kind  of 
light  work  as  I  was  not  very  strong.  I  had  had  chills 
for  about  eighteen  months,  and  was  not  in  the  best 
of  health,  though  I  hoped  in  that  high  climate,  and 
working  out  of  doors,  I  would  get  strong,  and  then 
could  do  better  work. 

This  little  speech  must  have  made  some  impression, 
the  truth  always  makes  an  impression,  and  I  stuck  to 
the  truth.  Mr.  Stewart  wanted  to  know  if  I  knew 
anything  about  water  wheels.  I  said  my  father  was 
interested  in  a  mill  once  and  I  had  seen  the  workmen 
build  a  wheel  much  like  the  old  wheel  he  had  there, 
though  I  thought  the  buckets  on  my  father's  wheels 


328  £ORGET-M£-NOYS   0#  TH£   CIVIIy  WAR. 

were  deeper  than  the  buckets  on  his  wheel.  He  said 
that  was  exactly  what  he  wanted,  a  wheel  a  foot  wider 
than  the  old  rotten  wheel  in  front  of  us,  and  he  wanted 
a  wheel  one  foot  in  diameter  larger  than  that  one, 
and  he  said,  "there  ain't  a  man  in  this  whole  county 
that  has  got  sense  enough  to  get  up  the  patterns  for 
such  a  wheel,  or  to  build  it."  He  said  he  would  have 
to  send  to  Columbia  to  get  a  man  to  build  the  wheel 
for  him.  I  said  I  was  hardly  able  to  do  the  sawing, 
chiseling  and  boring  that  would  be  necessary  in  build- 
ing such  a  wheel,  but  if  he  would  furnish  me  a  man 
who  could  handle  tools,  I  would  lay  off  the  work  as 
it  was  needed  and  I  thought  we  could  build  the  wheel 
all  right.  This  pleased  Mr.  Stewart  greatly,  and  I 
started  right  in  measuring  up  the  old  wheel,  taking 
down  on  an  envelope  the  figures  of  the  width,  the 
diameter,  the  depth  of  the  buckets.  With  all  these 
measurements  I  asked  for  some  clean  boards  to  draw 
the  patterns  on.  There  was  plenty  of  lumber  and  a 
number  of  niggers  to  do  the  work.  In  a  short  time 
with  chalk  and  pencil  I  had  started  to  laying  the  pat- 
terns for  the  wheel.  I  put  a  stake  in  the  ground  and 
with  a  cord  I  made  an  improvised  compass  that  would 
make  a  circle  about  eleven  feet  in  diameter.  I  soon 
had  the  proper  size  circle  by  a  few  trials,  and  in  a  little 
while  I  had  the  end  section  of  the  wheel  sketched  on 
these  new  planks  that  I  had  arranged  on  the  ground 
for  the  purpose.  As  soon  as  Mr.  Stewart  saw  this, 
he  showed  pleasure  in  every  part  of  his  face.  The  look 
of  "I  will  do  it,  or  die  trying"  passed  away,  and  in  its 
place  there  was  a  look  that  said,  "the  Good  Lord  is 


one  evening's  entertainment.  329 

mighty  good  to  me."  I  was  much  pleased  with  the 
progress  that  I  had  made  with  the  pattern  of  the 
wheel,  and  much  more  pleased  to  know  that  I  had 
pleased  Mr.  Stewart,  and  had  gained  his  friendship. 
We  took  our  lunch  at  the  mill.  I  hardly  took  time  to 
eat,  but  was  right  back  at  work  on  the  patterns  of  the 
wheel.  The  other  men  lounged  around  for  an  hour  or 
two,  for  the  day  was  warm. 

Before  night  I  had  finished  all  the  drawings,  full 
size,  so  the  balance  of  the  work  was  for  the  man  with 
the  saw,  the  auger  and  the  chisel.  Mr.  Stewart 
praised  me  and  said  that  was  the  best  day's  work  that 
he  ever  saw  done.  We  went  on  up  to  the  house.  On 
the  way  he  asked  how  much  wages  I  wanted.  I  told 
him  to  wait  and  see  what  I  was  worth  to  him.  I  went 
on  out  to  the  barn  or  stables  with  him  and  helped 
him  look  after  the  stock.  While  we  were  standing  in 
the  lot,  I  heard  the  rattle  of  chains,  and  the  snap  of 
wagon  wheels  and  the  patter  of  horses'  feet,  and  look- 
ing up  there  was  my  man  with  the  lightning  rod 
wagon.  The  man  got  down  and  asked  if  he  could 
stay  all  night.  Mr.  Stewart  said,  "Yes,  I  guess  so," 
and  asked  me  if  I  was  too  tired  to  help  the  man  with 
the  horses.  I  was  nearly  ready  to  drop  in  my  tracks, 
but  said  "no,  I  am  not  too  tired  for  that."  When 
I  went  to  the  wagon,  the  man  commenced  to  giggle 
and  said,  "You  seem  to  be  getting  along  very  well." 
I  said,  "shut  your  mouth,  you  forgot  what  I  told  you. 
You  don't  know  me  at  all." 

"The  H— 11  I  don't  know  you!" 

About  this  time   Mr.   Stewart  came  toward  us,  I 


330  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE  THE   CIVII,   WAR. 

thought  he  heard  what  the  man  said,  but  he  did  not. 
We  carried  the  horses  to  another  stable  away  from 
the  farmer's  horses.  I  said  to  the  man,  "Now  look 
here,  I  am  trying  to  win  that  money  and  don't  give 
me  away,  and  I  will  give  you  ten  dollars  out  of  the 
fifty."  This  fixed  him,  so  from  this  we  were  stran- 
gers. We  ate  our  suppers ;  the  man  was  sent  out  to  a 
little  house  in  the  yard  to  sleep  and  I  was  put  to 
sleep  with  a  little  boy.  I  was  so  tired  and  sleepy  I 
could  hardly  sit  up,  but  knew  I  had  to  lay  the  founda- 
tion for  selling  the  rods  before  I  went  to  bed,  so  I 
started  to  tell  a  story  about  when  I  was  a  telegraph 
operator.  I  explained  all  about  an  electric  battery, 
how  it  was  made,  and  mentioned  all  the  chemicals 
used,  told  how  certain  metals  were  better  conduc- 
tors than  others,  and  how  a  coil  of  copper  wire, 
charged  with  electricity  would  become  a  magnet,  and 
explained  how  this  principle  was  used  to  build  tele- 
graph instruments,  explained  how,  by  cutting  the  wire 
in  two,  the  electric  current  was  stopped,  and  how, 
when  the  wire  was  joined  together  again,  the  electric 
current  would  flow,  fill  the  coil  and  the  coil  would 
become  a  magnet  again. 

Then  I  explained  a  telegrapher's  key,  how  the  key 
could  be  rattled  up  and  down,  and  would  make  a  quick 
sound  that  we  called  a  "dot"  and  a  slower  stroke  that 
would  make  what  we  called  a  "dash,"  and  with  these 
"dots  and  dashes"  we  composed  an  alphabet. 

That  a  "dot  and  a  dash"  was  "a,"  a  "dash  and  three 
dots"  was  "b,"  and  "two  dots,  a  space  and  a  dot"  was 


one  evening's  entertainment.  331 


"c,"  and  a  "dash  and  two  dots"  was  "d"  and  so  on 
through  the  alphabet. 

As  I  looked  at  Mr.  Stewart  and  all  the  family  sit- 
ting around,  I  saw  that  my  effort  was  greatly 
appreciated,  so  I  went  on  to  my  master  stroke,  the 
one  thing  that  I  knew  would  sell  the  lightning  rods  if 
anything  could  sell  them. 

I  told  about  sitting  in  my  telegraph  office  when  a 
lightning  storm  was  on  the  wires,  and  about  the 
lightning  coming  in  on  the  wires,  burning  up  the 
paper  on  the  table,  knocking  me  out  of  my  chair,  and 
injuring  the  instruments,  so  I  said  this  taught  me  a 
lesson.  I  said  after  this  I  would  always  put  on  my 
ground  wire,  and  this  carried  the  electricity  down  in 
the  ground. 

Then  I  told  him  about  the  lightning  striking  a  cedar 
tree  in  the  yard  at  my  old  home.  It  tore  the  bark  off 
for  a  distance  down  toward  the  ground;  a  trace  chain 
was  hanging  on  a  limb,  and  when  the  lightning  or 
electricity  got  where  the  chain  was  it  left  the  tree 
and  went  on  the  chain  to  its  lower  end,  then  jumped 
and  tore  the  bark  off  all  the  way  to  the  ground. 

By  this  time  the  whole  family,  Mr.  Stewart  included, 
knew  exactly  how  a  lightning  rod  would  protect  a 
house.  I  said  nothing  about  rods,  but  bid  all  good 
night  and  went  to  bed.  I  slept  well  and  was  up  early 
the  next  morning.  When  we  went  down  to  the  barn, 
Mr.  Stewart  asked  the  lightning  rod  man,  how  much 
it  would  cost  to  put  rods  on  his  house  ?  The  man  said 
he  would  figure  on  it.  The  truth  was  he  could  not 
figure  at  all,  so  Mr.  Stewart  discovered  that  the  man 


332  FORG£T-ME-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVII,   WAR. 

was  slow  at  figures  and  turned  to  me  and  asked  if  I 
could  figure  it  up  for  the  man.  I  looked  up  at  the 
chimney  and  asked  how  high  it  extended  above  the 
top  of  the  house?  Mr.  Stewart  said  about  ten  feet.  I 
asked  the  rod  man  how  high  he  would  run  the  rod 
above  the  top  of  the  chimney?  He  said  about  six 
feet,  so  I  commenced  adding  feet  together,  saying  ten 
and  six  is  sixteen,  and  how  far  in  the  house  is  the 
chimney? — about  ten  feet,  and  ten  makes  twenty-six 
and  for  the  bend  around  the  eaves  of  the  house,  six 
feet,  and  six,  makes  thirty-two,  and  twenty  feet  to 
the  bottom,  makes  fifty-two  feet,  and  to  the  ground 
four  more  feet,  makes  fifty-six  feet,  and  six  feet  down 
in  the  ground  makes  sixty-two  feet,  or  about  this,  at  35c 
per  foot,  makes  $21.70  and  $3.00  for  a  point  makes 
$24.70  for  one  rod,  and  three  rods  three  times  $24.70, 
which  makes  $74.10.  Mr.  Stewart  said  that  was 
right,  and  the  man  could  go  on  and  put  the  rods  up. 
The  man  asked  for  somebody  to  help  him,  so  Mr. 
Stewart  asked  me  if  I  could  spare  the  time  from  the 
mill  wheel  to  help  the  man.  I  thought  I  could,  and 
I  did,  so  we  put  rods  on  the  residence,  on  the  barn, 
on  the  gin  house  and  the  mill.  The  total  amount  of 
the  bill  was  $247.70.  After  staying  three  days,  I  told 
Mr.  Stewart  as  we  had  made  no  bargain  about  my 
work,  and  this  man  was  going  right  back  to  my  home 
in  North  Carolina,  that  if  he  would  let  me  off  I  would 
like  to  go  back  home  to  see  my  mother;  this  was  the 
truth,  and  there  was  somebody  else  that  I  was  very 
anxious  to  see,  too,  that  I  did  not  mention. 

Mr.  Stewart  was  very  kind,  said  he  did  not  blame 


one  evening's  entertainment.  333 

me  for  wanting  to  go  home,  and  wanted  to  pay  me 
for  the  work  on  the  wheel,  but  I  said  he'd  been  so  kind 
we  would  call  it  square,  so  this  is  how  I  sold  the 
lightning  rods. 

One  of  his  kinsmen,  hearing  this  story  in  after 
years  when  his  success  was  assured,  wrote  thus : 

"You  are  the  same  old  Jesse  who  lightning  rodded 
the  South  Carolina  man's  chimney,  and  could  have 
run  a  rod  up  his  back  if  you  had  felt  so  disposed." 
A  good  talker  and  worker  like  him  did  not  leave  many 
houses  unprotected  from  the  stormy  elements,  but 
made  such  staunch  friends  among  the  poor  that  even 
the  most  rudely  constructed  buildings  had  been  safe- 
guarded against  lightning  after  a  visit  from  Jesse. 
They  were  only  too  proud  to  do  him  the  honor. 

When  he  had  finished  these  master  pieces,  in  his 
own  inimitable  style,  we  bade  goodbye  to  merriment 
and  he  took  me  back  home. 

I  asked  him  on  the  way,  "Why  did  you  think  I'd 
leave  all  my  loved  ones  and  go  with  you  to  the  far 
west,  without  mentioning  it  to  me  first?" 

"Well,  I  knew  when  I  asked  you  at  old  Liberty 
Church  that  Sunday  not  to  get  married  till  I  came 
back,  and  you  did  not,  that  you  loved  me  well  enough 
to  go  anywhere  with  me." 


Tis  beauteous  night;   the  stars  look  brightly  down 

Upon  the   earth,   decked  in  her  robe  of  snow; 
No  light  gleams  at  the  window,  save  my  own 

Which  gives  it  cheer  to  midnight  and  to  one, 
And   now  with   noiseless   step,   sweet   memory   comes, 

And  leads  me  gently  through  her  twilight  realms, 
What  poet's  tuneful  lyre  has  ever  sung, 

Or  delicate  pencil  e'er  portrayed, 
The  enchanted  shadow  land  where  memory  dwells? 

It  has  its  valleys  cheerless,  lone  and  drear, 
Dark   shaded  by  the   mournful   cypress   tree, 

And  yet  its  sunlight,  mountain  tops  are  bathed, 
In  Heaven's  own  blue,  upon  its  craggy  cliffs, 

Robed  in  the  dreamy  light  of  distant  years, 
Are  clustered  joys  serene  of  other  days. 

— James  A.  Gakfield. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
How  My  Mother  Disposed  of  Us. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast  my  mother  looked 
so  sorrowful,  like  she  had  spent  a  sleepless  night, 
and  even  Aunt  Pallas  was  so  unusually  serious  look- 
ing, that  I  felt  my  fate  was  decided. 

Jesse  came  very  early,  as  he  was  leaving  that  night, 
and  said  he  must  see  me  as  much  as  possible  in  the 
short  time  left  us.  He  did  not  want  to  see  me  or  be 
with  me  more  than  I  did  him,  even  though  we  might 
be  asked  to  part  for  good.  He  was  the  sunniest  hearted 
boy  the  Lord  ever  made,  and  the  most  forgiving.  He 
met  my  mother  like  she  were  his  own,  and  said, 

"Well,  Mammy,  what  have  you  decided  to  do?" 

"I  have  decided  not  to  stand  in  your  way  for  happi- 
ness, but  you  must  promise  me  when  you  leave  for 
St.  Louis  this  time,  that  you  will  not  write  or  try  to 
see  Laura  again  in  two  years.  This  will  give  you 
both  time  to  know  your  own  mind,  and  another  very 
important  thing,  whether  your  business  will  succeed 
or  fail.  If  you  love  Laura  as  much  as  you  seem  to 
think  now  you  do,  you  would  not  want  her  to  suffer 
privations  in  a  distant  land,  where  no  relative  or  friend 
is  near  to  help.  That  is  my  decision,  and,  unless  you 
do  this,  you  will  grieve  me  by  any  other  course  of 

335 


336  FORGET-M^-NOTS   Otf   TH£   CIVIL   WAR. 

action.  I  will  leave  you  both  now  to  talk  it  over,  and 
hope  you  may  see  the  justice  to  both  by  acquiescing 
in  my  wishes." 

"Mrs.  Lee,  you  know  enough  of  the  family  his- 
tory in  this  state  to  know  that  I  came  of  good  stock, 
and  we  can  trace  our  genealogy  back  to  two  kings — 
France  and  Ireland.  From  the  great  battle  of  Hast- 
ings on  to  the  present  time  my  father's  family  have 
been  statesmen,  churchmen  and  jurists,  in  England 
and  America,"  Jesse  proudly  remarked. 

"Well,  Mr.  Mercer,  that  is  where  you  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  so  many  others,  not  so  fortunate;  being 
well  born,  you  should  start  right  in  the  world,  if  there 
is  true  manhood  in  you.  Still  I  remember  an  old  say- 
ing I  once  heard  of  the  Washington  family,  'that  the 
best  end  of  the  vine  was  in  the  ground.'  In  your 
case  I  sincerely  hope  that  your  family  tree  may  bear 
better  fruit  than  ever  before,  by  this  union  with  my 
daughter,  for  I  have  always  tried  to  instill  into  her 
mind  the  most  exalted  ideas  of  goodness  and  intrinsic 
worth.  I  note  with  great  pleasure  on  seeing  your 
'coat  of  arms,'  that  a  strong  right  hand  is  holding  the 
cross  above  the  crown,  and  I  take  it  that  as  a  crusader 
your  ancestor  who  had  that  crest  bestowed  on  him 
must  have  been  a  valiant  Christian  soldier,  and  I  ask 
you  still  to  hold  that  cross  higher  than  any  earthly 
honors.  Think  how  many  are  born  in  obscurity,  and 
don't  know  whether  their  'coat  of  arms'  would  contain 
the  'bar  sinister,'  if  they  were  rightly  informed  or 
not!  Thank  God,  Mr.  Mercer,  that  you  reap  a  har- 
vest of  good  deeds,  and  may  you  continue  to  sow  a 


HOW    MY    MOTHER   DISPOSED   Of   US.  337 

heritage  for  future  generations  to  'rise  up  and  call 
you  blessed.'  "  My  mother,  after  this  little  homily, 
arose  and  left  us. 

"Miss  Betsey,  I  can't  live  without  you  two 
years  longer.  I  shall  need  you  to  make  a  little  nest 
for  me  in  my  new  home  and  among  new  people.  We 
can't  put  off  our  marriage  two  long  years.  It  is  not 
right  to  ask  us,  is  it?  We  have  already  waited  two 
years." 

"Now,  Jesse,  don't  hint  at  disobeying  my  mother, 
for  we  would  never  be  happy  if  we  did ;  two  years  are 
not  too  long  for  me  to  wait  for  you,  if  you  continue 
to  love  me,  and  two  years  would  be  too  long  to  live 
with  you  if  you  did  not  really  love  me.  As  the  proverb 
goes,  Two  years  will  not  be  too  long  for  me  to  get 
a  good  husband,  and  two  years  will  be  too  long  to 
live  with  a  bad  one.'  " 

"You  are  right,  and  I  will  do  as  your  mother 
wishes,  but  it  will  be  hard  not  to  write  to  my  little 
sweetheart  in  that  time.  Suppose  you  should  grow 
indifferent  and  marry  another  in  the  meantime!"  he 
exclaimed. 

"Never  fear  about  me,"  I  replied,  "unless  another 
crops  out  like  the  South  Carolina  musician." 

"Now,  Miss  Betsey,  don't  ever  hint  such  a  thing 
again,  it  is  a  sore  subject  to  me,  and  one  I  don't  like 
to  discuss." 

Aunt  Pallas  came  by  the  window,  and  Jesse  called 
to  bid  her  goodbye,  she  was  so  much  a  part  of  our 
household. 

"Goodbye  Aunt,  I  am  going  to  leave  you  all  to- 


338  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

night,  for  my  new  home,  and  don't  let  the  boys  steal 
Miss  Betsey  away  from  me,  while  I  am  away  making 
enough  money  to  buy  her  plenty  of  dumplings." 

"That's  right,  Mars  Jesse,  don't  you  ever  die  in  debt 
to  your  belly.  I  knows  that  Betsey's  bin  lovin'  you 
all  along,  cause  she's  bin  coming  out  to  de  kitchen  ever 
sence  you  went  to  Souf  Calliny  and  done  nothing  but 
talk  about  how  purty  you  is,  and  how  anxious  she  is 
to  see  you." 

"Aunt,  I  cried,  "I  think  I  hear  somebody  calling 
you." 

That  was  a  sad  parting  for  us,  though  he  went  man- 
fully to  my  mother  and  said,  "We  have  agreed  to 
do  as  you  desire.  I  know  Miss  Betsey  loves  you 
too  well  to  displease  you,  but  Mammy,  she  loves 
me  and  we  shall  marry  some  day,  so  don't  think  this 
forced  absence  will  make  us  love  one  another  less, 
it  will  only  add  fuel  to  a  consuming  fire." 

Our  parting  is  not  for  our  readers  to  share,  only 
the  tiny  twinkling  stars  were  peeping  at  us  and  we 
were  sure  they  would  tell  no  tales. 

"Now  that  our  separation  is  near  at  hand,  Miss 
Betsey,  I  am  going  to  leave  that  name  as  a  thing  of 
the  past.  I  don't  like  Laura,  that  is  too  cold,  and 
I  have  bethought  me  that  'Bess'  will  be  your  name  in 
all  my  thoughts,  for  that  is  nearer  'best'  than  anything 
else,  until  I  may  have  the  right  to  call  you  wife,  the 
very  best  of  all." 

"What  is  in  a  name,"  I  quoted,  "a  rose  by  any 
other  name  would  smell  as  sweet,  and  your  loving  me 
by  any  other  name  would  make  you  just  as  dear,"  I 
replied. 


What  shall  I  do  with  all  the  days  and  hours 

That  must  be  counted  ere  I  see  thy  face? 
How  shall  I  charm  the  interval  that  comes 

Between  this  time  and  that  sweet  time  of  grace? 
I   will  this   dreary  blank   of  absence   make 

A   noble  task-time,   and   will  therein   strive 
To  follow  excellence,  and  to  o'ertake 

More   good  than   I   have  won  since  yet   I   live. 
So  may  this  doomed  time  build  up  in  me 

A  thousand  graces,  which  shall  thus  be  thine; 
So  may  my  love  and  longing  hallowed  be, 

And  thy  dear  thought  and  influence  divine. 

— Feances  Anne  Kemble. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Jesse's  Enforced  Absence. 

Henderson,  the  faithful  Friday  for  Jesse,  was  only 
too  well  pleased  to  hear  that  he  was  to  be  allowed  to 
go  to  St.  Louis.  The  beautiful  team  of  bays  that 
had  helped  to  decide  our  fate  were  sold  to  my  brother, 
and  I  never  saw  them  but  I  thought  how  much  happi- 
ness and  some  suffering  they  had  been  instrumental  in 
giving  me.  They  seemed  to  look  at  me  as  if  they 
knew  it  would  all  end  happily.  Sometimes  we  would 
hold  sweet  communion  together,  and  wonder  where 
our  kind  gentle  master  was,  and  if  he  were  thinking 
about  us.  Such  intelligence  as  shone  from  their  mild 
eyes  bespoke  their  instinct,  and  a  nod  of  their  proud 
heads  would  satisfy  me  that  they  understood  and  sym- 
pathized with  poor  "Miss  Betsey." 

Once  in  a  while  there  would  be  a  rift  in  the  clouds, 
and  a  little  sunshine  would  creep  into  my  lonesome- 
ness.  I  was  bridesmaid  for  my  dearest  friends,  Bettie 
Cox  and  Emma  Durham,  and  my  staunch  old  friend, 
Victor  Thompson,  was  the  groomsman,  who  waited 
with  me. 

The  wedding  of  Bettie  Cox  and  Patrick  Johns 
was  celebrated  from  the  bride's  home  in  Clayton. 
After  the  ceremony  the  bride  and  groom,  with  their 

341 


342  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OE  THE   CIVII,   WAR. 

numerous  attendants,  drove  through  the  country  to  his 
mother's,  where  a  wedding  feast  was  spread.  Victor 
knew,  as  did  all  my  other  friends,  that  I  was  engaged, 
and  he  himself  was  very  nearly  so.  We  could  there- 
fore go  together  and  not  be  in  love  with  each  other 
or  suspected  of  it,  as  was  usually  the  case. 

"I  tell  you,  Bettie,"  he  said  to  me  on  the  drive,  "this 
being  in  love  makes  me  feel  good  all  over;  but  right 
here,"  placing  his  hand  over  his  heart,  "I  feel  some- 
thing as  big  as  a  wash  bowl  when  I  think  of  that 
girl  way  down  in  Mississippi.  They  say  we  are  dis- 
tantly related,  but  I  believe  the  only  kin  is  that  my 
father's  dog  run  through  her  father's  plantation,  but 
I  feel  all  over  in  spots,  when  that  little  girl  creeps 
into  my  thoughts.    How  do  you  feel;  the  same  way?" 

"No,  Vic,  I  can't  describe  my  feelings,  for  you 
would  not  understand  them,  besides  it  would  make 
you  so  sorry  for  me,  you  wouldn't  feel  good  any 
more." 

When  I  bade  farewell  to  my  old  schoolmate  and 
returned  home,  I  was  sadder  than  ever.  In  a  few 
months  more  Prof.  Ellington  married  my  other  bosom 
friend  and  I  was  left  with  another  link  broken  in  my 
life,  a  link  that  bound  me  to  her  in  a  sisterly  way, 
and  our  friendship  was  closely  akin  to  it. 

Emma  Durham,  years  before  when  we  were  barely 
in  our  teens,  fell  in  love  with  our  teacher  of  mathe- 
matics, Professor  Ellington.  He  was  one  of  the  hand- 
somest men  in  town,  besides,  his  personality  was  as 
charming  as  he  was  handsome,  and  all  his  students 
were  very   fond  of  him.     He  was  years  and  years 


JESSES  ENFORCED  ABSENCE.  343 

older  than  Emma,  but  age  hath  not  power  to  stale 
such  attractions  as  he  possessed.  So  she  said  to  me 
one  morning  on  our  way  to  school : 

"I  love  Ellington  well  enough  to  die  for  him,  Laura." 

"Well,  Emma,  he  is  so  handsome,  and  kind  to  us 
all,  I  am  not  surprised  at  you,  for  you  always  were 
different  from  the  rest  of  us,"  I  replied,  "but  don't 
set  your  heart  on  the  Professor,  for  I  have  heard 
rumors  of  his  being  engaged  to  marry  a  Miss  Smith, 
who  is  nearer  his  age  and  will  make  him  a  wife  more 
suitable  to  grace  his  home.  You  know  you  are  in 
short  dresses  yet,  and  he  has  never  thought  of  your 
loving  him,"  I  cautiously  ventured  to  remark. 

"Oh,  don't  tell  me  that,"  and  she  stopped,  but  the 
tears  were  rolling  down  her  cheeks  when  I  looked  at 
her  again. 

A  few  weeks  after  this  conversation  the  Professor 
announced  to  the  pupils  that  he  intended  to  give  up 
school  work,  and  ended  by  saying,  "I  am  going  to  be 
married  very  shortly;  that  is  the  only  reason  I  would 
give  up  a  work  I  dearly  love,  and  you,  my  pupils,  to 
whom  I  feel  so  atached;  but  I  shall  always  look  back 
with  pleasant  memories  on  the  work  we  have  done 
together." 

I  glanced  at  Emma,  who  was  my  deskmate,  and 
saw  her  naturally  rosy  cheeks  had  turned  so  pale  and 
white,  I  feared  she  was  going  to  faint.  Then  I  began 
to  think  Emma  was  seriously  in  love  with  our  teacher. 
In  a  few  days  we  each  had  received  an  invitation  to 
the  wedding,  and  were  delighted  to  get  it,  except 
one  little  sad  heart.     She  told  me,  "I  would  rather 


344  FORGET- M£-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

be  buried  than  to  go  to  his  wedding  and  see  him  mar- 
ried to  another  woman;  I  cannot  go,  it  will  break 
my  heart." 

The  day  came  at  last,  and  all  the  children  from 
Clayton  Academy  were  there  in  a  body  to  congratulate 
him  and  welcome  his  wife  to  our  town,  all  but  Emma 
Durham  (she  never  saw  him  again  for  years,  her 
father  moving  to  another  part  of  the  state). 

The  months  rolled  along  and  Prof.  Ellington  was 
left  a  widower,  and  in  a  year  or  two  the  news  came 
that  he  would  bring  another  bride  to  his  old  home 
to  cheer  his  lonely  heart;  not  hearing  more  than  a 
passing  rumor,  it  made  no  deep  impression,  for  we  all 
felt  that  he  was  not  a  man  that  could  live  without  lov- 
ing hands  to  comfort  him,  but  when  the  announce- 
ment was  made  that  he  had  married  Emma  Durham, 
my  sister  almost,  and  a  friend  always,  the  surprise 
was  great  to  our  townspeople,  but  to  me  it  seemed  to 
come  as  a  matter  of  fact,  for  I  felt  that  her  love 
should  be  requited  after  such  a  blow  as  his  first  mar- 
riage, and  knowing  that  time  had  only  made  him  more 
dear  to  her,  but  wishing  to  surprise  me,  she  had  kept 
the  marriage  as  quiet  as  possible. 

All  these  things  conspired  to  make  me  more  hopeful, 
but  other  reasons  helped  to  make  me  doubt  whether  the 
happiness  Jesse  and  I  had  planned  would  ever  be 
realized,  that  only  a  dream  might  be  left  to  me,  but 
such  a  beautiful  one  that  life  would  never  have  been 
the  same  without  it. 


JESSE'S  ENFORCED  ABSENCE.  -  345 

How  the  long  days  dragged  "their  slow  lengths 
along."  I  made  up  my  mind  if  I  waited  two  years 
for  my  boy-lover,  instead  of  going  off  to  school  as 
I  should  have  done,  I  would  stay  at  home  with  my 
mother,  for  the  parting  from  her  would  surely  come 
after  that,  God  willing.  She  never  urged  the  matter 
after  I  told  her  I  wanted  to  stay  with  her  the  balance 
of  the  time. 

I  was  placed  in  an  embarrassing  position,  for  as 
soon  as  Jesse  left  us,  he  told  every  one  he  met  that 
we  were  engaged,  and  in  two  years  he  was  coming 
back  to  claim  me,  and  his  parting  injunction  to  the 
boys  was,  "Don't  let  Miss  Betsey  get  too  lonesome," 
for  he  was  satisfied  they  could  not  "cut  him  out." 

My  sister  Rilia  urged  my  mother  and  myself  to  pay 
her  a  long  visit  in  Raleigh,  and  I  always  thought  she 
did  that  to  keep  me  from  feeling  Jesse's  absence  so 
much.  I  had  plenty  of  attention,  and  not  a  single 
young  man  I  met  permitted  me  to  get  "lonesome,"  so 
far  as  he  could  entertain  me.  They  merely  served  to 
pass  the  time,  but  such  heart  longings  to  see  my 
own  boy  lover  again. 

Clem  Clawson,  my  sister's  step-son,  was  more  than 
kind  to  me,  but  it  was  like  a  brotherly  feeling.  Edwin 
Forrest  happened  to  play  "Damon  and  Pythias"  while 
I  was  visiting  in  Raleigh.  Clem  was  proud  to  escort 
me,  and  as  I  had  never  been  to  a  theatre  before  he 
said  he  knew  I  would  show  I  was  from  the  country 
by  crying. 


346  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVIL   WAR. 

"No,  I  will  not  cry  now  just  to  show  you  I  can 
keep  from  it,"  I  answered. 

We  reached  the  opera  house  early  and  watched  the 
beautiful  women,  so  beautifully  gowned,  as  they  en- 
tered their  boxes. 

The  play  was  well  staged,  and  Forrest  was  at  the 
zenith  of  his  fame. 

As  the  climax  was  reached,  where  Pythias  offered 
himself  to  take  Damon's  place  for  him  to  visit  his 
(Damon's)  wife,  I  heard  a  sob,  and  looking  at  Clem, 
I  saw  that  he  was  deluged  with  tears,  both  nose  and 
eyes  keeping-  him  busy.  Well  remembering  how  sure 
he  was  that  I  would  appear  so  green  as  to  cry  over 
a  play,  it  struck  me  so  funny  to  see  him,  a  big  fellow, 
sitting  there  blubbering  like  he  thought  I'd  do. 

I  began  to  laugh  at  him,  and  he  continued  to  weep 
copiously,  and  I  still  laughed  until  I  nearly  had  hys- 
terics. 

"I  think  you  are  the  coldest  hearted  girl  I  ever 
saw,"  he  said,  between  his  sobs  and  snorts.  That 
set  me  off  laughing  again  as  I  saw  his  red  nose  and 
tear  stained  face. 

"I  shall  never  take  you  to  a  theatre  again,"  he 
wailed. 

"And  I  shall  never  go  with  a  big  cry  baby  like  you 
either,"  I  angrily  retorted.  "Look  at  Wesley  Jones 
and  Tom  Ferrall  laughing  at  you  and  wringing  out 
their  handkerchiefs  as  they  mop  their  eyes  like  you. 
Just  look  and  see,  I  wish  now  I  had  gone  with  Wesley, 
only  you  asked  me  first." 


JESSE'S  ENFORCED  ABSENCE.  347 

This  conversation  took  place  between  the  acts,  but 
when  the  final  act  came  and  Damon  received  a  pardon 
and  was  restored  to  his  wife,  I  felt  a  tear  had  risen 
to  my  eyes  for  the  reunion  of  the  loved  one,  and  I 
thought  of  the  day  "when  two  souls  with  but  a  single 
thought,  two  hearts  that  beat  as  one"  should  be  united, 
never  more  to  part. 

My  mother  and  I  returned  to  our  home,  but  there 
seemed  something  wanting,  and  I  was  restless.  Nealie 
and  her  children  helped  to  divert  me,  but  never  for 
long. 

Richard  came  again  with  renewed  efforts,  to  win  or 
die,  so  did  Ben  and  the  others,  but  I  could  not  bear 
for  them  to  speak  of  love  to  me. 

One  day  I  met  an  original  character  and  one 
worthy  of  better  word-painting  than  my  poor  pen 
can  do.  She  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  winking  her 
left  eye,  jerked  her  head  down  on  the  same  side,  and 
with  a  most  positive  way  of  clinching  her  lips  tightly 
together  after  each  word,  she  said : 

"Well,  Bettie,  I  hear  you  are  to  marry  that  young 
lightning  rod  agent  after  two  years,"  a  wink  and  a 
nod  with  each  word.  I  replied,  "I  hope  so.  We  are 
on  probation  now." 

"Well,  you  take  a  fool's  advice  and  write  to  him 
to  come  back,  and  get  married  and  go  with  him  to 
St.  Louis.     You've  heard  my  horn,  so  good  bye." 

Many  other  friends  begged  me  to  do  likewise,  but 
no,  I  had  promised  mother  to  wait,  and  I  would  keep 
my  promise. 


348  FORG£T-ME-NOTS   OF  TH£   CIVIL   WAR. 

Now  and  then  Mrs.  Harrell  received  a  few  lines 
from  Jesse,  and  though  he  felt  most  keenly  this  sepa- 
ration, he  never  once  complained,  but  wrote  such  cheer- 
ful letters  that  they  were  almost  like  a  visit  from  his 
own  sunny  self. 


Yet  why  I  know  not,  yearned  my  spirit  to  you. 
Nor  why  for  you  it  kept  a  vacant  throne; 

I  only  know  it  came,  and  that  I  knew  you 
By  Love's  authentic  token — for  my  own. 

— Anonymous. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 
My  Mother  Makes  Us  Happy  at  Last. 

The  letters  soon  showed  that  Jesse  had  been  wise  in 
selecting  such  a  business  centre  and  a  business  that 
was  new  in  many  ways.  In  the  beginning  it  was  hard 
work  to  canvass  the  United  States,  and  try  and 
impress  every  doctor  with  the  virtue  of  the  new  chem- 
ical preparations  or  compounds,  but  working  not  alone 
for  money  and  its  equivalent,  but  working  for  the 
love  of  a  young  girl's  happiness,  made  it  almost  easy 
to  accomplish,  and  success  had  crowned  his  efforts 
from  the  first,  and  now,  at  the  expiration  of  two  years, 
he  had  five  thousand  dollars  to  his  credit,  and  suffi- 
cient income  to  set  up  housekeeping  in  his  western 
home.  Each  letter  brought  such  good  news  that  I 
was  convinced  more  fully  that  our  patient  waiting 
would  be  rewarded,  after  a  time. 

My  brother  Bob  who  had  been  engaged  in  business 
in  Durham  fell  in  love  with  the  beautiful  daughter  of 
Thomas  Lyon.  Her  name  was  also  Bettie,  and  when 
he  wrote  to  us  that  he  would  give  to  my  mother 
another  Bettie  Lee,  to  take  my  place,  we  all  felt  grate- 
ful to  him. 

They  were  married  and  came  to  live  with  mother, 
and  after  all  I  felt  that  kind  Providence  had  spared 

351 


352  FORGET-ME-NOTS   OF   THE   CIVIE  WAR. 

me  the  pang  of  leaving  her  all  alone.  My  mother  had 
had  nothing  but  love  and  self  denial  for  me,  and  had 
worked  so  hard  to  make  things  easy  for  me. 

O,  mother,  you  never  could  have  done  more,  and 
might  have  done  less,  and  I  would  have  still  been  the 
better.  Your  love,  like  my  husband's,  shine  like  twin 
stars. 

"Time  was  made  for  slaves,"  as  I  found  out  in  the 
long  wait,  though  everything  comes  to  the  patient 
waiter  after  a  while. 

The  winter  came,  with  the  gayeties  usual  to  a  small 
town.  In  March  our  suspense  would  end.  I  saw,  each 
day,  my  mother  look  longingly  at  me,  as  if  the  dreaded 
time  was  coming  all  too  soon  for  her. 

The  last  of  February  she  called  me  to  her  and  said, 
"Well  done,  daughter,  you  have  won  the  fight,  and 
will  soon  leave  me.  Sit  down  and  write  to  Jesse,  and 
tell  him  to  come  back,  that  I  will  not  longer  stand 
in  the  way  of  your  happiness.  You  have  been  a  duti- 
ful daughter  to  me  all  your  life,  and  you  deserve  to 
marry  your  first  and  only  love.  'For  love  is  the 
divine  elixir  that  sweetens  and  makes  life  run  smooth, 
and  marriage,  if  happy,  is  the  crown  to  any  woman's 
life.'  Write  to  Jesse  and  tell  him  to  come  back  and 
claim  his  reward,  for  I  cannot." 

You  may  be  sure  I  lost  no  time  in  doing  as  my 
mother  bade  me,  and  in  reply  received  a  telegram,  say- 
ing that  he  would  reach  Clayton  on  Saturday,  and 
we  could  be  married  on  the  following  Tuesday. 

I  said,  "why,  mother  dear,  I  can't  be  married  so 
soon,  for  I  have  no  trousseau  prepared." 


MY  MOTHER  MAKES  US  HAPPY  AT  LAST.  353 

"Yes,  my  darling  child,  your  sisters  and  I  have  made 
you  a  lovely  outfit,  except  of  course  a  very  important 
thing,  your  dresses,  which  I  advise  you  to  get  when 
you  reach  your  western  home,  for  what  you  would  get 
here  might  not  be  suitable  for  that  climate.  We  can 
have  your  wedding  gown  and  a  traveling  dress  ready 
by  the  time  you  need  them." 

"Oh,  my  mother,  you  are  the  best  mother  any  girl 
ever  had,  and  I  don't  deserve  such  consideration,  for 
I  am  sure  I  have  not  tried  to  do  all  for  you  these  two 
years  that  you  have  been  doing  for  me,  but  I  do  love 
you  very  dearly,"  and  here  we  both  wept  together,  in 
silence.  How  the  days  dragged  for  me,  and  how  they 
must  have  flown  for  my  mother,  for  Saturday  came, 
and  with  it  my  heart's  desire  and  love,  and  with  Jesse 
came  his  own  dear  mother,  an  earthly  saint.  Our 
meeting  like  our  parting  is  too  sacred  to  be  told  here, 
but  we  two  children  were  happy,  so  happy,  heaven 
seemed  to  open  to  us  after  those  long  black  years  of 
weary  waiting.  When  I  met  his  sweet  mother,  and 
she  took  me  in  her  motherly  embrace  and  said,  "I 
welcome  you,  my  daughter,  to  my  home  and  my  heart ; 
I  know  what  my  precious  boy  has  suffered,  but,  Oh, 
you  were  worth  waiting  for ;"  my  heart  went  out  to  her 
that  moment,  and  as  long  as  memory  lasts  I  will  con- 
tinue to  bear  a  daughter's  love  for  his  mother. 

My  mother  then  came  in,  and  taking  Jesse  by  the 
hand  and  calling  me  to  her  said,  "Take  her,  my  son, 
and  may  God  bless  you  both  always." 

Then  my  boy-lover  said,  "Mammy,  our  home  is 
yours  and  my  mother's  whenever  you  will  come  to  us. 


354  FORGET- ME-NOTS   OF  THE   CIVIE   WAR. 

There  is  nothing  too  good  for  my  wife's  mother  and 
you  above  all  women  deserve  more  than  we  can  ever 
do  for  your  happiness,  for  your  clear,  farseeing  judg- 
ment has  kept  us  from  committing  the  sin  of  disobe- 
dience, which  no  doubt  would  have  kept  us  from  enjoy- 
ing the  Eden  we  shall  now  have." 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "the  Eden  you  have  will  be  the 
Eden  you  make  for  each  other." 

Just  then  Aunt  Pallas  came  in  carrying  a  bundle 
up  stairs.     She  asked,  "how  is  you  all?" 

Mrs.  Harrell  answered,  "The  children  are  happy  at 
last,  Aunt  Pallas." 

Aunt  said,  as  she  started  up  stairs,  "May  they  die," 
and  toiling  up,  step  after  step,  with  the  large  package, 
reaching  the  top  step,  said,  "happy." 

Tuesday  morning  dawned  fair  and  beautiful  with- 
out a  cloud  to  dim  the  brilliant  azure  of  the  heavens. 
We  were  to  be  married  at  high  noon  and  leave  at  two 
p.  m.  for  our  St.  Louis  home. 

Jesse's  favorite  niece,  Margaret  Rhodes,  acted  as 
bridesmaid,  and  my  old  friend,  Victor  Thompson,  was 
best  man. 

Dr.  Harrell,  Jesse's  brother-in-law,  performed  the 
ceremony,  and  when  he  said,  "Jesse  Mercer,  do  you 
take  this  woman,  whom  you  hold  by  the  right  hand,  to 
be  your  lawful  and  wedded  wife,  forsaking  all  others, 
and  cleave  only  unto  her?"  "I  will,"  came  in  clear 
ringing  tones. 

When  he  said,  "Laura  Elizabeth  Lee,  do  you  take 
this  man  to  be  your  lawful  and  wedded  husband  ?  Do 
you  promise  to  love,  honor  and  obey  him,  forsaking 


MY  MOTHER  MAKES  US  HAPPY  AT  EAST.  .  355 

all  others,  to  cleave  only  unto  him,  so  long  as  you 
both  do  live?"     "I  will,"  came  from  a  sincere  heart. 

Then  repeating,  "Until  death  us  do  part,"  he  said, 
"I  pronounce  you  man  and  wife;  what,  therefore,  God 
hath  joined  together,  let  no  man  put  asunder." 

Then  standing  in  the  doorway,  his  mother  and  my 
mother,  our  mothers  now,  with  blessings  bade  us  "God 
speed"  as  we  were  leaving  to  begin  a  new  life  together 
in  a  strange  land. 

Now  we  hear  the  shrill  shriek  of  the  locomotive, 
and  we  are  whirling  away  together,  my  boy-lover  still, 
but  always  a  manly  man,  whispered  in  my  ear: 

"I  bless  the  day  the  horses  brought  me  Bess 
and  luck." 

The  End. 


I  wonder  if  ever  a  song  was  sung, 

But  the   singer's  heart  sang   sweeter? 
I  wonder  if  ever  a  rhyme  was  rung, 

But  the  thought   surpassed  the   meter? 
I  wonder  if  ever  the  sculptor  wrought, 

Till  the  cold  stone  echoed  his  inmost  thought? 
Or  if  ever  a  painter,  with  light  and  shade, 

The  dream  of  his  inmost  soul  hetrayed? 

— Anonymous. 


■ 


ill  ill 


n  i 


n 

I 
I 


